


Lost Boys' Ink.

by slashsailing



Series: Lost Boys' Ink (Tattoo Studio AU) [1]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, Established Relationship, F/F, F/M, First Time, Fluff, M/M, Resolved Sexual Tension, Sexual Content, Smut, Somnophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-31
Updated: 2013-08-31
Packaged: 2017-12-25 04:54:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/948860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slashsailing/pseuds/slashsailing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tattoo Studio AU. </p><p>Jim decides to get a tattoo for his eighteenth birthday and falls for his cantankerous tattoo artist, this leads to messy dates, intimate moments and of course copious amounts of awesome sex. But Jim has a lot of growing up to do and isn't sure what that means but maybe more tattoos and college might be involved and how does this affect the only constant relationship he's ever had? </p><p>It's basically my version of Jim growing up in modern day Iowa, meeting Bones, getting together and then trying to manage a relationship. It actually goes rather well for the pair of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost Boys' Ink.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted July/August 2013, but it has since been revised and betaed so it's looking a bit sharper, hopefully!

Jim can't deny the way his heart races every time he passes by the new tattoo studio that has opened on the main street, his eyes so wide that they threaten to roll right out of the sockets. Not only does the place look cooler than anything Riverside has ever seen, but there is this gorgeous dude behind the counter—or, alternatively, over in the far corner of the shop tattooing a myriad of enthusiastic people—who draws Jim's attention every time Jim walks by.

He looks older than Jim—which isn’t difficult considering Jim won’t be eighteen for another three months—but not so old; not old enough to own a place like this, anyway. But by all accounts, it seems he does.

The shop front, painted a dark matte blue and accented with chrome highlights, is fronted by a huge window that Jim utilises as his personal looking-glass, inviting himself into this other world of stunning art and coolness of epic proportions. The inside, where the walls are lined with acrylic paintings of skulls and bleached bone, is a relatively compact space compared to the clothes boutique and hair salon that it's sandwiched between.

Usually, a curvy red head bustles about behind the counter, a woman who Jim assumes is the receptionist. Her arms are adorned with two full sleeves of green leaf work, and, whenever Jim has seen her, she is always smiling. There is a second tattoo artist, a blonde woman, but Jim hasn’t taken all that much notice in either of the females. Jim's eyes always search out the male artist, first locating him within the shop and then trying to assess whatever his current project might be. It helps Jim to psyche himself up. To build up just enough courage to go inside—knowing he can’t really get inked yet, but wanting to have a closer look regardless.

On one of the days—days which are becoming more and more frequent—that Jim plays truant, instead of hiding in his usual haunt of the Riverside shipyard, he takes the plunge into Lost Boys’ Ink.

Jim takes a breath before he enters, noting the old-fashioned _ting_ of the bell above the door. He crosses the black and white tiles, heading straight for the counter with the two piles of portfolios. Jim takes a moment to look at his surroundings. Now that he's inside, he notes the sleek black shelves lined with old-fashioned medical equipment and tattoo guns, as well as the life-sized, skeleton on show beside the front desk.

“Do you need any help?” the redhead asks politely from her station behind the desk.

“No, but thanks. I’m just gonna have a flick through.” Jim gestures the portfolios, trying to exude his usual confidence, but his cheeks are flushed slightly pink as he assumes the unfamiliar position of a fish out of water.

“If you need anything, let me know.” She offers him a wider smile.

Jim murmurs his thanks before opening the sleek black folder labelled _Leo McCoy_. He is greeted with various photographs of black and grey realist pieces, all intoned with purposeful flashes of colour that make them unique but—more than that—utterly captivating. Jim finds it difficult to turn the page from one piece to the next. It must be a thing he does, these evocative sparks of colour: a mark of his style. There’s a second booklet underneath the folder filled with evidently unclaimed designs, or maybe just drawings he wants to showcase. They’re no less amazing. Jim sighs, desire pooling in his belly. He traces his index finger over the outline of a vintage carousel.

This was always going to be Jim's conclusion, but now he's certain: he wants Leo McCoy's artwork on his body.

“You all right, kid?” Jim jumps at the sound of a deep accented voice and when he turns around the artist is standing right next to him. They're almost chest to chest.

He stands taller than Jim by a couple of inches and he’s broader in a way Jim knows he’ll never be able to match. Leo shifts his shoulders expectantly, pulling the material of his black t-shirt so that it strains over his chest, moving to accommodate the swell of his biceps. Jim doesn't mean to stare open-mouthed like a goddamn fish, but he can't help it. And it only gets worse when Jim looks down, trying to hide his gaze in the easy pattern of the floor until his eyes are pulled to the muscled thighs that stretch against faded grey jeans. Jeans that cling to him in all the right places.

Jim finds himself stumbling over another likely conclusion: he wants this man to fuck him.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine.” Jim nods, recovering his breath and, in turn, his capacity for speech. “These are really good.”

“Thanks.” The guy huffs, as if the compliment is unwelcome—or unwarranted, Jim isn’t sure. “You, ah, look a bit young for ink.”

“I’ll be eighteen in March," Jim counters with a pout. Some might call it petulant, but Jim knows how to work with the tools he's been given. “Can I book a piece before then, so I can have it done on the day?”

“Yeah, I guess. As long as you got ID on the day.” Leo shrugs, rolling his eyes. “You have something in mind?”

“Not yet. I’ll think about it," Jim says before adding: “Jim Kirk.”

“McCoy. Leonard McCoy," he introduces. “Just let us know when inspiration strikes.”

“I will.” Jim nods, flicking the book closed and padding back to the entrance of the shop, turning his head to look back at Leo one more time to give the older man and purposefully coy—fit with eyelash fluttering—smile. He can almost _hear_ the guy roll his eyes as Jim turns back around, forcing himself out of the doorway and giggling like a schoolchild as he walks back down the street.

Jim decides on a wolf for a number of reasons. The first being that they’re awesome, obviously, and the second being that they’re one of those animals that have loads of different meanings. With so many connotations associated with them Jim will be able to make up hundreds of ridiculous stories about it and generally mess with everyone's head. He decides on his chest because it’s a big flat space which'll mean not only will the tattoo refrain from becoming distorted—because this is his body and he's taking it very seriously—but it also means he’ll get to be topless for Leo for an extended period of time, which is a total bonus. Some might say those aren’t the best motivations for a tattoo but, with the way Leo draws, he doesn’t think he's going to regret it.

When he tells Leo about the wolf, the tattoo artist actually looks pleasantly surprised, losing the world-weary frown. “I can work with that,” is what he says with a nod, trying to hold back a smile. “Book in a consultation appointment with Gaila. I’ll have a few ideas for you to look at by then and we’ll go from there.”

—

What Jim’s most looking forward to when his consultation day comes around is not the fact that he will finally be able to see the work of art that he’s going to get to claim for his own—the piece of art over which he’s been bouncing about excitedly for the past two weeks—but also _finally_ having enough time to actually talk to Leo. To get to know his artist, to see what makes the older man tick.

When he strolls into the studio, looking suitably windswept, Christine Chapel, the female artist, is sitting at one of the drawing desks behind the front counter. Though she is engrossed in sketching a pair of koi carp, their heads turned into each other to create the outline of a heart, she smirks at him when he walks in, as if there is some private joke running between them. Jim just offers her a wary smile in return. Upon hearing the doorbell ring, Gaila steps out of the sterilisation room, discarding her pink latex gloves and heading over to the front desk to greet Jim.

“Hey, Jim.” She glances back down at her appointment book, smiling. “You’re the wolf?” she asks, but it’s more for her own benefit than Jim’s. “It’s amazing.”

“I’m excited to see it," Jim admits, grinning—because it's the only reaction that is suitable in the face of the receptionists easy smile—nerves settled by the gentleness of her grass-green eyes.

“Leo’s just finishing up with a client," she explains. There is a screen up in front of Leo’s usual bay and it makes Jim frown, craning his neck as if he'd actually be able to see around it.

“Where’re they getting done?”

“She’s getting her ribs done mainly, but the design slightly reaches up one of her breasts. So I put up the screen. Some studios are set up like little cubicles so it’s only you and the artist, but Leo’s first studio, where he did his apprenticeship, was open plan like this. I think he and Christine like the sense of community," Gaila finishes with a delicate shrug of one shoulder.

“It makes for a nicer atmosphere, especially for customers who are here for full-day sessions,” Christine adds, glancing up from the sheets in her hand to Jim and Gaila. “You’ll need a full day, I would imagine.”

“Lucky me.” Jim smirks, eyes flicking over to the screen. There is a rustling from behind it and then Leo’s gentle Southern drawl is informing the client about aftercare and telling her to have a look in the full length mirror which is situated up by Christine’s station. The girl that emerges from behind the screen is a tiny little blonde thing, wearing nothing but pink acid wash shorts. She’s holding her forearm over her breasts as she steps up to the mirror, tattooed ribs on the side that faces the reception area. Jim can see what looks like the profile of a Victorian lady, drawn in an old school style but with so much detail she looks real, hair blowing over her face and up over the side of the client’s breast, bright strands of pink infusing with the mostly black and grey piece. She beams at the mirror.

“Her eyes are awesome,” Gaila tells her.

“I know," the girl says, sounding slightly breathless. “That’s what I love about Leo, I always knew I wanted black and grey pieces but I love the fact he does those small highlights of colour. She has bluer eyes than me," she adds with a faux little pout making Gaila laugh. Jim doesn’t know if he should comment or not but he settles on grinning back at her when she looks up at him, her smile refixed into position. She's proud as punch, that much is obvious.

“Jan, let me wrap it before you start chattering," Leo scolds, good-natured but firm.

“Right, okay, sorry.” She scurries back over to him, her back now to the reception; she raises both her arms, a little less animated on her freshly inked side. All Jim can think is Leo is currently getting a great eyeful, but like a complete gentleman, Leo’s eyes are focused on the fingers rubbing cream into her skin and on breaking the tape to secure the cling film in place. She puts a loose vest on and then a jumper before she heads back over to the reception area. Jim watches Leo for a moment, but he seems to be cleaning up his station and fiddling through various things, checking his phone and eating a banana. Jim was hoping he'd join them.

“I bet you’re thrilled with it," Christine says, pulling Jan’s hoody back so she can get another quick look. Jan nods pulling her hoody off again completely so she can showcase herself.

“Are you booking an appointment or are you getting a piece started today?” Jan asks Jim, she’s probably only on the cusp of eighteen-nineteen herself and this looks to be the only piece she has, unless those denim hot pants are hiding something.

“I’m in for a consultation," he says.

“It’s exciting isn’t it?” Jan smiles.

“Yeah," Jim nods, compelled to return her enthusiasm.

“Will it be your first?” she wonders.

“Yeah.” Jim nods. “Was she your first?”

“Yeah.”

Then Leo’s approaching and Jan steps away from the hatch, putting her zipper on once more and moving to stand opposite Gaila. Jim feels a flutter of nerves when Leo sets down a sheet of tracing paper, but he’s struck into silence when he looks down at it. It’s the bust of the wolf, drawn so realistically that even his nose looks slightly wet. Like all of Leo’s work the piece is predominantly black and grey, but the snout is a particularly light shade of grey with a fill of white highlight. It’s the eyes though, they’re this cobalt green with blue hues and it’s so intense that Jim almost can’t stop looking. Trailing his eyes down Jim notices the barely-there couple of flecks—brown and purple—at the edges of the fur around the neck and ears.

“He’s perfect,” Jim says gently, looking up at Leo who is trying to contain his smile with a frown and pursed lips.

“That is so cool," Jan agrees and Jim looks back at her, nodding dumbly.

“Come through and we’ll talk about it away from all the gawping women.” Leo scoffs, opening the hatch and stepping aside. Jim follows him, not quite sure what there is to talk about. “I want to take a trace of your chest so I know what kind of space I’m working with when I rescale it.” He pulls off a huge section of tracing paper and holds it up to Jim. “Just stand normally, back straight,” Leo instructs and then presses the tracing paper against Jim’s chest, roughly marking the outlines of his body and drawing a cross section mark where his sternum is. “Now I don’t know whether you wanted it as a chest piece or whether you want it lower," Leo murmurs—losing himself in concentration—before recapping the lid of the pen and rubbing it lightly along the top of Jim’s abdomen, under his breastbone.

“I think it’d be better lower,” Jim says.

“I think you’re right.” Leo nods, frowning at Jim’s abdomen and using a different marker to draw a circle from Jim’s sternum to an upper middle point of Jim’s abdomen, marking off ear shapes slightly higher by Jim’s pectoral muscles. “Something like that?” Leo asks, looking up at Jim from where he’s now slightly crouching.

“Yeah.” Jim nods, trying not to think about Leo on his knees.

“Now about the wolf, you didn’t say you wanted him looking particularly vicious so I went with a more sombre tone, hence the purples but if you—”

“No.” Jim shakes his head smiling reassuringly at Leo. “No, he really is perfect.”

“You’re sure?” Leo asks.

“I’m sure.” Jim nods.

“Okay, then," Leo says. “Good. You said you were eighteen in March right? I think I’m pretty booked up at the start, but talk with Gaila and she’ll sort you out. We can do it in two or three sessions or, if you want, book in a full day and we’ll just go from there.”

“Okay great,” Jim says feeling a little winded as the realisation that this will actually be happening—and soon—hits him. He's almost knocked over with the flash of excitement that presses against his solar plexus and sets his heart galloping.

“Told you it was fabulous, didn’t I?” Gaila smiles at him. “When am I booking you in for?”

“You got a full day free on the twenty-second of March?” Jim asks and Gaila flicks through her glossy red appointment book, brightly coloured stickers popping on every page.

“Indeed we do, you booking in for six hours then?” Gaila asks.

“Get as much of it done as soon as possible,” Jim agrees.

“Well you get a slight discount because you’re in all day, it’ll be $700 and then if you need another hour or so if Leo doesn’t quite get him finished we’ll sort that out when we come to it,” Gaila explains.

“Okay, cool.” That's perfect for Jim whose already put $1,000 away since the studio opened from little jobs he’s been doing here and there combined with the proceeds gained from selling some of Frank’s old welding equipment for scrap at the shipyard. “You need me to leave you a deposit?”

“Yeah, $100’ll do if you have it on you.” So Jim hands her over the thin wad of green bills and she notes it down beside his name in the book. Then she looks up at him and smiles. “We’ll see you then, come in about half eleven so Leo can go over any last minute changes and get the stencil sorted, eat plenty before you get here and bring chocolate or something to keep you going.”

“Cool, thanks Gaila. I’ll see you then.” Jim grins, heading back out onto the windy Riverside street, heart doing a little victory dance in his chest.

—

He bounds back into the studio with a similar amount of enthusiasm when March twenty-second finally comes around. Gaila showers him with birthday love and chats to him for a while about breathing through the pain and about persevering with his ribs even when he thinks he can’t go on. His eyes widen more and more, heart racing, as she continues to talk.

“Do you terrify all the costumers like this?” He asks, offering her a wry grin.

“Only the ones I like,” she admits with a lopsided smirk of her own, it’s fond and homely. “You’ll build up adrenaline if you’re anxious and then it won’t hurt so much,” Gaila explains. “Do you want a cup of coffee while you’re waiting?”

“Sure.” Jim shrugs. “If it’s no bother?”

“No I’m gonna make a pot, if I don’t Leo might never start tattooing and that’d be a horrible way to spend your birthday.” She pouts at Jim playfully. “I bought you a bar of Hershey’s too. I hope you’re not, like, lactose intolerant.”

“Chocolate is about the only thing I’m _not_ allergic to,” Jim says. “Can people be allergic to ink?”

“Sure I guess, although I’ve never met anyone who is. I’m sure Leo would do a skin test if you wanted him to, he almost trained to be a doctor you know,” she says proudly, as if she’s a boastful mother showing her son off to the world. “Hence he keeps all the weird little artefacts, it’s a cool thing though I guess, makes the studio a bit different. The last place I worked the owner had a thing for Sailor Jerry and voodoo dolls.” She giggles and shrugs, padding off in search of coffee. Jim just shakes his head with a faintly amused furrow of his brow and sits on one of the chairs in the little waiting area.

“It’s alright Jim, you can come through.” Leo calls, looking up from the cabinet where they keep all their ink.

“You sure?” Jim says, hand perched over the hatch door handle.

“I said so, didn’t I?” Leo rolls his eyes and motions to the bed in his station. “Perch yourself there for a minute, I’m just thinking.”

“I’ve heard that can be dangerous.” Jim smirks.

“You’re unbelievable kid.” Leo scoffs. “Happy birthday too, I guess.”

“Ah, thanks,” Jim says with a small smile, fiddling with the hem of his t-shirt.

“Eager to take it off?” Leo asks, raising an eyebrow. He, yet again, looks as if he’s trying to suppress a smile of his own.

“For sure.” Jim nods, grinning. “What are you trying to decide anyway?” He gestures to the cabinet.

“Greens.” Leo says. “I think what I’ve got out already is right but I thought I had this other dark green but maybe Christine used it all.” Jim throws a gaze at the little table that Leo has set next to the bed; it’s covered in a layer of clingfilm and has bottles of antiseptic and another green-tinted liquid as well as loads of little pots of different coloured inks, held in place with Vaseline.

“I think there is more than enough green there.” Jim says, taking stock of the four different shades of green as well as a two types of grey, a pot of black and two pots of blue, a brown and a lilac. “We’ll manage.”

“Hmm.” Leo nods. “I guess we’ll have to.”

“You want me shirtless yet?” Jim wonders, looking up at Leo with wide, purposefully playful eyes.

“Jesus kid, you’re really something.” Leo huffs. “If you’re going to flirt with me all day I’ll never tattoo you again.”

“That’s totally unfair; it is my birthday after all.” Jim pouts.

“Yeah, even so, a bit young for me.” Leo laughs. “But the shirt does need to come off.”

“Come on, what are you, like, twenty-five?” Jim questions.

“Twenty- _four_ ,” Leo corrects with an eye roll, certainly _not_ watching Jim take off his t-shirt.

“See, that’s, like, six years difference. I think that’s within an appropriate flirting range.”

“You would.” Leo scoffs, sitting down on a little wheeled stool and fiddling with the lever until it’s the right height for the bed. “You’re not going to get too excited if I rub antiseptic into your chest are you? Imagine what the damage would have been if I’d a had to shave it.”

“I’m all smooth skin, me.” James smirks. “You want me to lie down while you oil me up.”

“Just sit still you infant,” Leo chides, clearly refusing to laugh at the utter mess that is Jim Kirk. Leo’s hands are warm when they rub over Jim’s chest, middle three fingers making small circular motions around the top of Jim’s abs and over his pectoral muscles. It seems both men are holding their breath slightly and when Leo pulls his hand away to transfer the stencil into place Jim instantly misses the sensation of Leo touching his body. Leo lets Jim check the positioning of the stencil in the adjacent mirror, and they both agree it’s bang on before Jim is finally able to lie back on the bed—Gaila having chucked a cushion under his head and wished him luck when she’d set his coffee down.

“You want to drink it before we start?” Leo asks, but Jim shakes his head.

“I’m not that thirsty anymore,” Jim admits, worrying the 'm' of his upper-lip between his teeth.

“The nerves are a good thing,” Leo assures him with a soft smile. “I’ll do some of the smaller lines first and let you get used to it.”

Jim is more terrified he’ll flinch and end up with a wonky line more than he’s worried about the pain but the first few lines are actually quite alright. It’s not a painful pain, it’s like an uncomfortable scratching sensation, and sometimes it feels too deep and makes Jim’s skin ache, but all in all it’s not enough to ever ask him to stop. Saying that, he enjoys the distraction Leo offers when he starts up conversation again. “You alright, so far?” he asks after about twenty minutes.

“It’s not as intense as I thought,” Jim says. “What were you like with your first tattoo?”

“Worse than you,” Leo admits. “I don’t like the discomfort, my skin starts to inflame pretty quickly, I’m pretty much a trainwreck from start to finish.”

“But you’re covered.” Jim laughs.

“Beauty is pain?” Leo suggests with a wry smile.

“I guess so,” Jim says pointedly, jiggling an eyebow. “What was it, your first I mean?”

“I have a pair of navy and purple roses, one under each clavicle.” Leo replies.

“When did you start your sleeves?” Jim asks, he’s finding the twenty questions a particularly effective method of distraction and Leo doesn’t seem to mind.

“The peaches and leafy one started just before my twentieth birthday and the bone and muscle and tendons piece was finished a couple of months ago.” Leo says. “Took us about five months to draw up.”

“Us?” Jim prompts.

“Yeah, wanted it to be as anatomically correct as possible _and_ as realistic while not looking too gross. I drew up most of it and let a friend of mine do his thing with it. I used to work with him at ‘Fleet Ink in San Francisco. I had to go up every second Saturday for like four weeks running; I think M’Benga was glad to see the back of me.” Leo chuckles.

“I like the contrast between the coloured sleeve and the black and grey,” Jim says. “Wait—you have a friend named _M’Benga_?” He asks.

“It’s a stage thing, you know? He does a lot convention stuff, bit of a showman.” Leo explains. “You think you’ll get many more pieces?”

“Yeah I reckon so.” Jim says. “Christine does a lot of Japanese stuff right? I saw her drawing koi carp the other day.”

“Yeah.” Leo smiles. “It’s her thing; the kind of neo-Japanese thing is a big part of the industry, she’s done me a coy all of my own too, it’s like her branding iron.”

“Where is it?” Jim wonders.

“Top of my thigh and over to the side.” Leo replies. “I haven’t focused much on my legs so he’s all on his lonesome thus far.”

“What was your worst piece?” Jim asks, wincing as Leo edges higher up the front of Jim’s ribs.

“I’ve got my own version of the McCoy coat of arms on the side of my ribs. That was unpleasant. Ribs are generally unpleasant,” Leo says with a nasty little smirk as he tattoos over a particularly sensitive spot along Jim’s thoracic cage.

“You’re an asshole,” Jim says gently.

“Pretty much.”

“Did you do more to your chest, after the roses?” Jim asks, trying to breath through he discomfort.

“Yeah, pretty full up as it stands. Got the sacred heart with wings, ‘cause I’m just _that_ original. I’m ah, from a Baptist family, Jesus is a pretty big deal to the folks, thought my mama would have liked it. Ease her into the tattooed thing you know. Under that is a cameo of a gypsy girl and in between the two roses is some script, just under my neck. I’ve got two old style pistols over each side, under the ribs, so they didn’t hurt as bad,” Leo lists, thinking.

“What does the script say?” Jim asks.

“Sweet darlin’,” Leo admits with a twinge of embarrassment.

“Oh that is too good.” Jim huffs out a pained little laugh. “That is just wonderful.”

“There’s a stag head,” Leo continues, sounding unamused. “Sort of a bust, like yours, but he’s slightly more old school, his snout just meets my navel.”

“Did you ever get something for the other side, you know to match the coat of arms?” Jim asks.

“Figure I’ll leave it until another coat of arms becomes important,” Leo says honestly.

“I like the idea of centering a chest piece around a ship’s helm, my dad was in the marines,” Jim explains.

“That could be cool, you could have swallows, a compass or a shark, depends how symmetrical you’d want it and whether you’d want it as a really realistic piece or more old school.” Leo shrugs. “How’s that feeling?”

“Better the lower you go,” Jim says and then laughs.

“Infant.”

They fall into an easy silence for the next hour or so, Jim looking at the clock every once in a while to make sure time is actually moving. He’s been at this for nearly three hours before Leo exhales, sets the gun down for more than just a minute or two and tells Jim to eat something. “And get some water; there are loads of cold bottles in the fridge.”

“Thanks, Bones,” Jim says, slightly woozy from the pain.

“Bones?” Leo asks with a look of mingled fondness and exacerbation plastered across his face.

“You need a cool nickname for when Iowa Ink starts filming,” Jim explains with a shrug, taking a long glug of water before heading over to the mirror by Christine’s station to check himself out. The outline is completely done and Leo’s also managed a fair bit of the darker shading in the ears and by the nose, Jim just smiles, rather chuffed. Christine looks up from the guy she’s tattooing a mermaid on and smiles.

“Looking good, Jim,” She says encouragingly. “Only three more hours left.”

“The longest three hours of my life, no doubt.” 

“I’d love to say the first is always the worst, but lying isn’t part of my prerogative.” Christine grins.

“Thanks all the same,” Jim murmurs returning to sit on the bed, rummaging through his bag for the pasta salad he packed and the chocolate bar Gaila gave him. “You want?” Jim offers the bar to Leo who shakes his head and lifts the fruit salad he’s now holding.

“You need all the sugar you can get so I won’t bitch but that shit’ll kill you in the long run.” Leo huffs.

“Oh god, are you like a health freak ‘cause that is a total turn-off.” Jim chuckles, forking pasta past his lips without hesitation or, apparently, taking pause for breath. 

“You’re an animal.” Leo scoffs.

It’s the first time Jim’s seen Leo without gloves on, he changes them often and Jim has noticed his hands and fingers are tattooed but he hasn’t been able to make out the designs thus far. On inspection Jim can see that the script on the biggest notch of his fingers spells out lost boys and the smaller notches have a variety of symbols on them. Each hand has a sugar skull on it, the left is a male skull with a monocle, moustache and dice-eyes, the right is a lady skull with a huge blonde curl, a lily hair pin and diamond eyes framed by pretty lashes.

“What’s with the lost boys thing anyway?” Jim asks.

“I liked _Peter Pan_ as a kid,” Leo admits. “A lot.”

“You seem more of a Wendy Darling than a Peter,” Jim decides.

“You’re probably right.” 

“How long have you been tattooing?” 

“Started my apprenticeship at sixteen but it wasn’t the right atmosphere in Atlanta,” Leo starts. “Moved to Mississippi when I was eighteen, was at that studio for three years, then went to Frisco for a while, just over a year, now here I am.”

“Lucky for me,” Jim says.

“Just get back on the bed, kid,” Leo orders, shaking his head and smirking.

“Kinky.” Jim laughs.

“You’re unbelievable.” Leo scoffs.

A further three hours later and Jim looks down his chest to see an almost complete tattoo, his wolf has startlingly blue-green eyes and two fully fledged ears and a nose and Leo’s just adding a few brown tones to the neck.

“It’s six, Leo,” Gaila says gently from somewhere behind Jim, his adrenaline levels had flat lined ages ago and so the constant burn around his abdomen is making him restless.

“Oh.” Leo frowns, seeming almost disoriented, before pulling the gun from Jim’s skin and looking up at the clock. “I’ve only got the tiniest bit left to do, you can go home Gaila if you need to, I can lock up and stuff.”

“I wasn’t saying it to rush you,” Gaila assures. “I just wanted to let you know, you get a bit caught up sometimes and maybe Jim has somewhere to be, it _is_ his birthday after all.”

Jim just laughs numbly and shakes his head. “I haven’t made plans,” he admits.

“You mind running over a bit?” Leo asks. “Maybe just until half-six, seven?”

“Knock yourself out,” Jim says with a goofy grin.

“I guess we have our answer.” Leo looks at Gaila with a smirk. “You don’t have to stay, I am able to lock up my own shop, you know.”

“Alright but take a photo so I can see it before you wrap it,” Gaila says. “You’ve done great, Jim,” she adds before slipping into the little cloak room and grabbing her jacket and purse. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Leo.”

“Bye, G,” Jim says alongside Leo’s murmured _bye darlin’_. Leo’s voice saying those words makes Jim shiver in an all too embarrassing way. Christ, it makes him feel like a twelve year old again, scrambling to regain control of his emotions. But Leo doesn’t seem to notice and is back to focusing on the lines his tattoo gun is making over Jim’s body.

“You have good skin for tattoos, what with you being so pale, the colour looks really great,” Leo murmurs.

“Thanks,” Jim replies, watching Leo concentrate so fervently on his body is making Jim think about how flattering it would be to have that same focus put on him in other situations. He rolls his own eyes at himself and tries to think of other things, his mind brings him back to the dull ache all over his torso and then he scrambles for something to talk about with Leo.

“We should do another piece,” Jim says gently. “Not today obviously, but soon, when I’m all healed up.”

“Okay, kid.” Leo chuckles slightly. “What’d you have in mind?”

“Doves.” Jim says. “High up over my collar bones, swooping down, wings over the fronts of my shoulders, you could highlight them with light blues and pinks, maybe, I don’t know.”

“I’ll draw them up with your chest piece in mind shall I?” Leo scoffs.

“I’m serious,” Jim urges. “And yeah, yeah you should.”

“Come into the studio in a week or two and we’ll talk about it then.” Leo says.

“Alright, I will.” Jim huffs. “Have you got your palms tattooed?”

“No, I’ve got some of the insides of my fingers done.” Leo says. “On the outside I’ve got an anchor and a shark on my thumbs and a crown on my right index finger and then an arrow and some filigree on two fingers on my left hand. On the inside middle fingers I’ve got bone outlines and I’ve got a top hat on my right pinkie.”

“Finger tattoos are kind of awesome,” Jim admits.

“Don’t get any ideas. It’s a big commitment; I wouldn’t tattoo most people’s hands if they didn’t already have very visible tattoos,” Leo says. “Just on principle.”

“I get that, I guess,” Jim says. “For someone who likes to do quite realistic pieces you sound like you have a lot of old school tattoos.”

“I started off doing old school pieces; that was what I was initially taught. But I can draw quite realistically so it translates into the designs I do,” Leo explains. “My old portfolio is full of old school pieces; you didn’t see it that day you came in browsing?” Jim just shakes his head.

“You distracted me before I could get a good look at everything.” Jim intones his voice with a slight leer and Leo laughs despite himself.

“Oh, I see,” Leo says. “I do beg your pardon.”

“You’re pardoned.” Jim grins. Then there is the soothing wipe of the soapy liquid over the ink and Jim’s body finally looks less like someone’s spilled writing ink all over him and more like a man with a fresh tattoo. His skin is raised slightly but not too inflamed and Leo pulls his stool back and motions for Jim to check it out. When he shifts off the bed he feels winded but gingerly makes his way over to the mirror and grins at what he finds. It’s perfect. Jim says as much.

“Thanks,” Leo says. “It suits you, kid. Let me get you cleaned up and wrapped.”

“Okay.” Jim breathes, making his way back over to Leo. Leo sits on his stool and motions Jim to stand in between is slightly spread thighs, he wipes Jim over with a light antiseptic and then smears a layer of Vaseline over it, rubbing it in soothing circles until it starts to absorb. Jim can feel the coolness of Leo’s breath somewhere around his navel and he wonders absently if Leo is doing this as a form of payback for Jim’s constant flirting. Then Leo’s pulling off a sheet of cling film and laying it over the tattoo, securing it in place with masking tape.

“Leave it on for at least four hours and then gently wash it down with a mild soap, pat it dry and cream it with some of this,” and Leo hands him a boxed tube of what looks to be diaper-rash cream and continues, “then wrap it again just for tonight, tomorrow try and get as much air at it as possible, after giving it a wash down cream it again, twice a day for about five days, avoid soaking it for about two weeks, showers are your best bet. But no swimming or bathing. And keep it out of direct sunlight for a while,” Leo says. “It’s all on the aftercare card anyway, and you can give us a call or come in if anything’s seems amiss. If it needs any slight touch up we’ll sort you out with that as well but it’ll need two weeks to heal at least.”

“Yes, sir,” Jim says with a mock salute before carefully slipping his t-shirt back on over his head. “You want me to wait around while you lock up? Keep you company?”

“I think I’m going to do a few sketches before I head home, I’ve got a few pieces coming up soon that I haven’t given much attention yet. Go home, get some sleep, you’ll crash after a day like this. But thanks, Jim.”

“No bother.” Jim shrugs. “I’ll see you around.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

—

And Jim _does_ see Leo around, or—more accurately—back in the studio, three weeks later whilst talking to Christine about a pair of shoulder carp. Christine explains how they would potentially impact on his chest piece plans and it makes Jim’s heart give a little flutter to think Leo has been chatting to Christine about him. Leo is across the studio, preparing his equipment so that he can begin to tattoo some initials into the back of a man’s neck. The guy doesn't look too pleased with the discomfort but seems more afraid to any objections.

“You might not want to stare; it sort of gives you away.” Christine smirks.

“M’not staring.” Jim pouts.

“How’s your wolf healed up, anyway?” She ignores his blatant lie in favour of a sweet smile.

“Good.” Jim nods and then Gaila slips over to Christine to tell her that her two o’clock has arrived. Christine excuses herself to talk to the client and Gaila invites Jim back behind the counter to have a closer look at his chest.

“Leo didn’t take a photo of it and I was so mad, but it was so worth the wait. It looks great Jim, really.” She smiles. “Are you going to stick around for a bit? Would you like a coffee?”

“I’ll hang about if you want me to keep you company, no coffee necessary.” Jim grins.

“Well that’s just perfect because I absolutely hate our new coffee machine. Wait here a minute so I can let this guy pay and I’ll be right back with you.” She smiles, heading over to stand next to Christine. Jim watches Gaila make small talk with the client before taking his money and making him sign a declaration of consent. Jim still has his half of it in a draw at home somewhere, he’s sentimental like that. The client follows Christine to her station and it appears he’s getting some filigree work done around his forearm.

“Not really a fan of tribal and filigree and stuff, it’s not very pretty.” Gaila whispers, sitting back in her receptionists chair.

“I guess it has its place,” Jim says absently, thinking of the small filigree knot on Leo’s finger.

“You’ve been thinking of a chest piece, I here.” Gaila smirks.

“He’s been talking about me, has he?” Jim counters.

“He thinks you’re really something.” She nods. “Although I think the nautical thing is really cool when it’s done well, I saw a really cool ship piece done on this woman’s shoulder, it was framed with rope so she didn’t have to link it into a sleeve it was just a standalone piece,” Gaila explains. “That could be cool.”

“Yeah I was thinking about ships, and I kind of like the idea of an old school message in a bottle type thing, maybe a shark around my forearm.” Jim shrugs.

“You think you’ll go quite old school?” Gaila wonders.

“With my left arm I think.” Jim nods.

“This is exciting.” Gaila grins and Jim can’t help but share her enthusiasm.

“I talked about a koi shoulder piece with Christine; maybe I’ll do something Japanese with the other sleeve.” Jim shrugs.

“She’s doing some neck work for me after work today, she’s doing like a Barbie head on each side, I’m really excited,” Gaila says.

“You’re so girly.” Jim grins. “Has she drawn them up yet or will she do them later?”

“Oh, I think she’ll probably do them when we get home.” Gaila shrugs. “She does all her drawings last minute.”

“I didn’t know you two were…” Jim makes a gesture between Gaila and Christine’s work station.

“Yeah, since about a month after I started working here. Moved in together a few weeks back. I was living in this grotty little apartment but Chris is an Iowa girl born and bred and her house is lovely and huge and—“ Gaila breaks off with a smile and a shrug. “She was seeing this guy Roger went I first started working here but it didn’t work out. I seized my opportunity.”

“Preying on the vulnerable, Gaila?” Jim laughs.

“That’s how I roll.” Gaila grins.

“Is Leo seeing anyone?” Jim tries to ask casually but realises it probably sounds anything _but_ casual.

“Not right now. He was dating someone pretty seriously in Mississippi but she turned out to be a real bitch, I reckon that’s why he left,” Gaila explains. Jim visibly wilts at the mention of Leo with a woman and Gaila giggles a bit. “Don’t lose hope, though. From what I gather his gate swings the other way on occasion too.”

“Oh, yeah?” Jim says nonchalantly.

“Yes, although I don’t know if you’re not still just that touch too young, you know. He’s a proper kind of gentleman he might feel like he was cradle snatching by going anywhere _near_ you,” Gaila says with something in her tone that makes Jim realise it’s something her and Leo have spoken about.

“I think it’s an admirable profession.” Jim smirks.

“I need to sort out the autoclave.” Gaila shoos Jim with a playful smile and the flicking of her dainty hands. “Get back behind the other side of the counter, but you can take one of those stools with you.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Jim nods, giving her his big doe eyes and a mischievous smile.

“What have I let myself in for?” He hears her laugh as she walks into the sterilisation room.

Jim doesn’t get much of a chance to chat to Leo until five o’clock comes round and he finally takes off his black gloves for more than ten seconds. Upon asking Leo why he changes his gloves so often Leo just stares at him with concerned, wide brown eyes and mutters _pathogens kid, you know basic health and safety mandates—_

And Jim is sorry he ever asked. He rolls his eyes and Leo lets out a huff cutting off whatever hygiene regulation he was planning to spew. Then he smiles gently and says, “I’ve got something for you,” before heading back over to his spotless station and opening a draw to pull out a sheet of tracing paper.

“Ooh. I haven’t seen this.”

“Because I wanted the kid to see it first, Leo says, setting out the tracing paper on the reception desk.

“I just polished that.” Gaila huffs at the exact same moment that Jim huffs: “My name’s _Jim_ and you damn well know it.”

“Jeez.” Leo scoffs. “I thought I was the grumpy one.”

“Maybe it’s catching.” Gaila huffs, looking to Jim for support but Jim is just staring down at the tracing paper. It’s a ship’s helm in a slightly less realistic style than the wolf but still has Leo’s highlights of colour, over the helm it has a banner that reads _homeward bound_ and is flanked by two birds that swoop towards it and would be, Jim imagines, towards the bottom cusp of his neck and over the sides of his pectoral muscles. One of the birds is shaded with pink and red tones while the other is full of blues, they’re a mix between doves and more old school swallows but they’re big enough that they’re full of intricate little details.

“Shit.” Jim breathes. “Is that my chest piece, Bones?” He looks up at Leo with a playful smile.

“If you want it, Jim.” Leo nods with a shrug.

“Good,” Jim says, grinning now. “I want it.”

Leo tries to hide just how chuffed he is while Gaila hums the first few bars of _puppy love_ and grins across at Christine when she starts laughing. Leo huffs and rolls his eyes and folds the design in half so it’ll fit back in his draw.

“You mind if we kick off early?” Christine asks sweetly from her otherwise empty station. “Not much we can do with an hour left and there’s this movie I want to see and it starts in twenty-five minutes.”

“Are you asking me or telling me?” Leo asks.

“Well, ah, asking you, of course, Leo.” Christine grins, picking her and Gaila’s bag up from the cloak room and kissing Leo on the cheek. “You’re a sweetheart, boss, really you are.”

“He’s _whipped_ is what he is.” Jim laughs. “Christ man, stand your ground.”

“Shhh,” Gaila hisses exaggeratedly, tapping her hands against Jim’s chest. “I want to see the _movie_.”

“Go on then girls.” Leo huffs.

“I’ll help you shut up shop,” Jim offers. “I haven’t got anywhere to be.”

“I know it’s a Saturday an' all, but do you actually ever _go_ to school?” Leo wonders.

“Sometimes.” Jim shrugs.

“Sometimes?” Leo questions.

“Yeah, I ah, don’t always feel like going in.” Jim shrugs.

“How comes?” Leo asks turning away from the girls, who have waved their goodbyes and headed out onto the street, to face Jim.

“I like a challenge, it doesn’t provide one,” Jim says with a shrug. “I took my SATs last year and scored twenty two eighty, this year is just a formality.”

“Jesus, Jim, you’re a fucking genius.” Leo grins, the first full mouthed, face-splitting, grin Jim has pulled from him and it’s glorious.

“You must be pretty smart though, Gaila said you wanted to be a doctor.” Jim says.

“I was pretty smart, I guess. I didn’t do my SATs though, started doing my apprenticeship and just slowly stopped going. I knew what I wanted and an Ivy League future wasn’t it,” Leo admits.

“What did your parents say?” 

“My daddy was a doctor; it killed him for me not to finish school, not to follow in his footsteps. Mama didn’t get it, still doesn’t, looks at my tattoos like they’re cattle brandings.” He scoffs. “But I’m her little boy I guess, she’s beginning to understand that when I come home I can still be her perfect idea of a gentleman even with all the scary ink.”

“My mom spends a lot of time away, dad died when I was a kid. I don’t have much to live up to; I think she’ll just be happy if I don’t get myself killed before I’m twenty.” Jim admits.

“I’m sorry, about your father. I meant what I said when it killed my father for me not to go to med school, I told him I was going to pick up a gun instead of a scalpel and he got diagnosed with polycythemia two months later, died before the year was out,” Leo pauses but quickly continues. “What does your mother do that means she has to travel?”

“I told you my father was in the marines, well that was how he—he died in action. My mother still works with them, mostly administration type work but it keeps her away from home a lot of the time.” Jim says. “I’m sorry about your dad too, Bones, I think if he was here now he’d be pretty damn proud of you.”

“Thanks, Jim.” Leo smiles. They share a moment of silence before Jim takes a steadying breath and begins saying what he's wanted to say for a while. 

“I think we should go for coffee soon. I don’t want to keep having to hang around the studio like some lost puppy but I’d really like to see more of you, Bones.” 

“You’re not going to give up are you?” Leo smiles.

“Not a chance. I don’t believe in no-win scenarios.” Jim grins. “Don’t think of me as some school kid, think of me as something else, just a guy.”

“You’re more than _just_ a guy Jim. Don’t sell yourself short,” Leo says. “You head home; I’ve got some stuff to finish up. You can pick me up at six on Thursday on the corner of 1 st and green. I don’t work on Thursday’s,” Leo explains. “And there’s this grill on first that I like.”

“Yeah, Murphy’s.” Jim nods. “I know it.”

“Coffee houses are wasted on me, I like it hot and I like it black and I like to drink it in the quiet of my own home before I’ve actually woken up.” Leo huffs.

“I have absolutely no opinion on coffee.” Jim shrugs. “I just thought a dinner date might scare you off.”

“No one ever tell you that food is the way to a man’s heart?” Leo wonders.

“I thought you were a super crazy health guru?” Jim teases.

“Not on Thursdays.”

—

And Thursday just can’t come quick enough.

But it does come around eventually, and Jim decides that sitting across the table from Bones in this slightly grotty diner is probably one of his more life-affirming moments. Leo seems to be grumpy even when he isn’t at work but Jim finds his unamused pout to be rather endearing and more than a bit sexy, Leo seems to be trying not to let the conversation wander into typical date territory, keeping Jim at a distance and in turn, ruining Jim’s game plan.

“Did you bother with school today?” Leo asks, sipping at a beer while Jim has been subjected to a glass of coke.

“Oh my _God_ , Bones. Are you just reinforcing my age so you don’t have to deal with the fact that I’d like to blow you?” Jim asks and Leo chokes on his beer and splutters. Jim gives him a hearty pat on the back and laughs, biting his lip to hold back the glee.  

“You can’t say shit like that.” Leo huffs.

“Well then you can’t keep treating me like a kid.” Jim insists.

“Okay, _okay_. But stop talking about _blowing_ me.” Leo scowls.

“You’ve got the most adorable grumpy face on the planet.” Jim laughs.

“You make me want to hurt you.” Leo says.

“You can ink me anytime, baby.” And Jim laughs even when he’s hit with a fistful of fries.

—

Their next date, because they are now _dating_ , is to the Riverside shipyard. It’s Jim’s idea, obviously, and Leo’s not even sure you can have a date at a veritable junkyard but Jim promises him you can. It’s a Saturday and they meet once Leo has finished locking up and Gaila says it must be pretty serious if Leo is giving up his Saturday nights of watching _Prison Break_ re-runs and _The Real Housewives of Atlanta_ episodes.

“You watch _Real Housewives_?” Jim asks when Leo finally steps out of the shop.

“Gaila is so fired.” Leo huffs. “So which way to the junkyard?”

“It’s the _ship_ yard, Bones. They make planes and, and _ships_ there. It isn’t just a junkyard,” Jim assures him.

“Alright, Jim.” Leo shrugs. “Lead the way.”

When they get there Jim already has everything set up. He’s quite a romantic at heart and feels that the gentleman inside Bones can probably appreciate that. _Although_ , Jim thinks dryly, he’d quite like to be the gentleman inside Bones. Leo frowns at him when he bursts into a fit of giggles over that little pun and he has to fight with himself to regain composure. Jim had come by today and sorted it with the foreman so that he could lay a blanket over the hood of his father’s almost-totalled but now-almost repaired red ‘65 Chevy Corvette convertible. The convertible in question was fished out of the bottom of a quarry five years after Jim drove it over that same quarry cliff. In preparation Jim put a hamper of food on the front seat under a six pack of beer he stole from Frank’s fridge.

It is nearly pitch black save for the stars filling Iowa’s night sky and the glare from the tail lights. Leo doesn’t say anything immediately just looked across at Jim and smiles. Jim licks at his bottom lip but doesn’t offer any words either just pulls the hamper out of the front seat and throws Leo an apple. The older man laughs and rolls his eyes, sitting up on the car bonnet, resting his back and head against the windshield.

“This is really something, Jim.” Leo says softly, looking up at the stars.

“This is my favourite place in the world. It’s nice to just come here, look at the stars, realise there’s more to the world than meets the eye.” Jim murmurs from the driver’s side door. “You want a beer?”

“Sure.” Leo nods. “If you’re having one.”

Jim grins then and pulls two cans from the plastic rings that hold the six pack together. He hops up onto the other side of the bonnet and places the cool beer over Leo’s chest. Leo pulls his gaze away from the sky to scowl at Jim but it seems only half-hearted, most of his focus is still in the moment. Not on the beer in his hand or the soft blanket beneath his body but the fact that Jim made all this effort for _him_. Jim knows that chuffed feeling, he felt it when Leo pulled out the drawings of his chest piece, it’s just a reminder, a reminder that they think about each other even when they’re not together. It’s reassuring and settling and it’s what makes Jim sure Leo feels more than just a touch of lust or a little bit of pity. He likes Jim and Jim likes him – point established.

Jim thinks this gives way to the next phase of the plan. The kissing and the rutting part, or at least, he hopes so.

“You think anyone out there is doing this exact same thing, right now?” Jim wonders, settling himself slightly closer to Leo.

“I have to hope so, I guess. Otherwise what’s anything worth?”

“Bones,” Jim whispers, face only inches away from Leo’s cheek. “I think you should look at me.”

“Why?” Leo whispers, not moving his eyes from their fixed position looking straight ahead.

“Because the stars can’t kiss you,” Jim says gently, heart doing a little rhythmic dance. Leo lets out a breath neither of them realised he was holding and turns to face Jim.

“I thought you were just on an ego trip,” Leo admits with a wry quirk of his lips.

“ _Me_?” Jim smirks. “Never.”

He shifts closer, delicately pressing his lips to Leo’s, hand placed comfortingly over Leo’s chest, the steady beat of his heart reminding Jim to be measured, to take it easy. But maybe Leo can feel the fast thump of Jim’s own heart and is letting that guide him because he’s deepening the kiss and twining their tongues and threading his fingers through the hair at Jim’s nape. It’s suddenly searing and Jim’s breathless but it feels so goddamn right that he doesn’t want it to end even though he knows sooner or later he’s going to need more oxygen. Leo ruefully pulls away, hand still grasping the hair at the back of Jim’s head to keep their faces close. They’re panting and staring wide eyed at each other but neither one says a word, they fall into a comfortable silence and now, instead of watching the stars Leo watches Jim, the same fond, awestruck expression on his face. Like he’s seeing Jim for the first time but not, because just like the stars, Leo realises, Jim has become a constant in his life, and the familiarity is very calming.

There is no exhaust in the car as of yet and so they have to walk home, and even though Jim insists he doesn’t need to be _walked home_ Leo brings him to his door like the gentleman he is and places a chaste kiss to the side of Jim’s mouth. Jim might once have been inclined to feel disappointed over the absence of tongue but the small gesture is actually more intimate coming from Leo and it’s an enticing promise for the future.

Jim can’t actually wait.

But the high school send Frank a letter informing him that his _stepson_ has been skipping class and unless _James_ manages to pull his attendance level back up to ninety-four percent they’ll be forced to contact social services because Jim is still a minor and his education is still mandatory regardless of the fact this year is actually pointless for Jim. So Frank ‘grounds’ Jim. Which is another pointless endeavour in Jim’s humble opinion but Frank actually seems quite determined this time. He actually stays sober enough in the evenings that he is able to drive Jim to school every morning – which is a whole ‘nother world of embarrassing – and watches Jim do his homework assignments at the dinner table every night.

“You’re bullshit is not going to get social workers involved in our lives.” Is what he grumbles one night a few days after the letter.

“It’s not like they’re gonna do anything.” Jim shrugs. “Maybe you didn’t notice, or _remember,_ or whatever but I turned eighteen in March. I’m not a kid.”

“While you’re under this roof you do as you’re damn well told,” Frank snarls.

“Fuck you,” Jim snaps and he makes sure to slam the door when he leaves.

Leo’s still inside the studio even though it’s half eight when Jim finally gets there. He taps on the window and watches as Leo clearly gets annoyed at whatever idiot _can’t read the goddamn closed sign_ before realising that it’s Jim. His face relaxes and he lets him in.

“Working late?” Jim jibes.

“Shouldn’t you be in bed, kid?” Leo counters with a tired smile.

“Oh ha ha. You’re so funny, Bones.” Jim rolls his eyes.

“What are you doing over here anyway?” Leo asks.

“Impromptu date number three?” Jim suggests. “Why, aren’t you happy to see me?”

“Of course I am.” Leo huffs, scowling slightly for good measure. “This won’t be much of a date though.”

“I just needed to get out of the house, could I maybe watch you draw?” Jim wonders, looking over Leo’s shoulder at his design bench. Leo seems to be working on an anatomically correct skull that has a rose in what would be its hair if it had any. The rose is threaded with red highlights but the rest is black and grey.

“You getting that ready for tomorrow?” Jim wonders.

“Yeah.” Leo nods. “The woman getting it done is becoming a bit of a regular, she’s nice enough though, I guess.”

“I’ve been saving up money for my chest piece,” Jim says offhandedly. “You wanna give me a ballpark figure?”

“I was thinking I’d save it till maybe date six,” Leo says gently.

“What?” Jim questions.

“It’ll have to be a Sunday though because you’re not skipping school because of me and this will definitely need a few sessions. Full days on your chest is just not an option, especially if I want to make it to date number seven.” Leo explains.

“I’m not asking you to do it for free, Bones,” Jim says, frowning.

“Look, Jim, this is what I do. I’ve tattooed Christine for free, and Gaila. If I was a doctor I wouldn’t make you pay for treatment, what’s the difference?” Leo says. “If I didn’t want to do it I wouldn’t offer now, would I?”

“I guess not.” Jim shrugs. “How long do you think it will take?”

“I think we should stagger it over four sessions. Maybe get the line work done in one session, that’ll maybe take three hours and then just do as much as you can take for as many sessions as it takes.” Leo shrugs.

“And you’re sure?” Jim questions.

“I’m _sure_ Jim.” Leo huffs. “I want to go to that new Thai restaurant that’s just opened; we should do that tomorrow, if you’re not busy?”

“I’m working a shift at the shipyard tomorrow morning from seven until three. I’m free after that,” Jim explains, letting Leo guide him out the back of the studio to a small patio area. “I didn’t know this place had a back yard.”

“Well it used to be residential property apparently, then it turned into whatever it was supposed to be when I bought it, although I couldn’t tell you what that was.” Leo scoffs.

“It’s changed hands a lot over the years.” Jim nods. “It’s been practically everything.”

“Let’s hope it lasts this time.” 

“I don’t think you have to worry. You’ve been here like six months now, right?” 

“Nearly eight,” Leo corrects. “But yeah.”

“Longer than most, for sure. It’s a good sign.” Jim grins. He begins to say something else asinine about the state of retail outlets in Riverside but is cut off when Leo’s lips cover his own. Leo’s lips are warm and firm against his and it contrasts nicely with the slight chill of the Iowan evening breeze. Jim grips Leo’s biceps, thumbs running over the arch of his shoulders while Leo keeps Jim close with two firm hands at his ribs. It’s making out like Jim has never experienced—and he’s experienced a lot. It usually feels more loose than this, usually he’s distracted by the umpteen things battering against each other in his head. But now— _now_ —it’s just Bones and his mouth and the rise and fall of his chest and that faint smell of antiseptic that cloys to his skin even when he’s not working.

Frank rips him a new one when he finally make it home, two loves bites tenderly sucked into his throat and matching swollen lips. Jim is too busy floating on that ecstatic cloud nine to pay much attention to Frank’s bitching and even though he couldn’t get to sleep he still gets to work on time and earns his pay check. Least that was one thing Frank never complained about – he knew Jim was a hard worker and he’s never begrudge the kid the money he earned. All he wanted, well _demanded_ was more accurate, was a bit of respect. Whatever that meant. Not that Frank has earned Jim’s respect. He was the most intrusively absent step-father anyone had ever encountered and it seemed he was at his happiest when he was either drunk out of his head or stripping Jim down a peg or two.

The Thai restaurant is definitely the classiest thing they’ve done together and that fact is emphasised by them both donning shirts for the evening. Shirts with _buttons_ , who’d have thought? But the men themselves are still the same unchanging characters, Jim trying to make lewd jokes while Bones just huffs and rolls his eyes. Jim tells Leo about his revolt against Frank’s supposed ‘grounding’ and so Leo suggests they take a walk through Legion Park so he can clear his head before he heads home. But it _is_ almost ten pm so he sort of expected the park to be closed, the fact that Leo’s apartment is opposite the park is completely coincidental or so Leo tries to convince Jim. He’s smirking when he invites Jim in and Jim is only happy to oblige. Leo skips the polite offering of coffee, knowing Jim will refuse it anyway or make a horribly clichéd innuendo about rom-coms or something of the like. He just tells Jim to explore a bit while he changes out of this god-awful shirt.

“I like the shirt, even if it is a bit taut across the shoulders,” Jim shouts through to the bedroom, looking at the pictures Bones has on the walls in his hallway. The apartment is very minimalistic, filled with masculine colours and hard lines but the artwork is vivid, photography of green fields and the bluest oceans to brighten the place up. It’s actually quite an awesome little place. Leo has an office set up in the room Jim’s sure was sold as a second bedroom. Leo _does_ have a futon in the room but most of the space is taken up by a huge glass desk and an old fashioned tattooing chair that is upholstered with bright, cherry-red, leather. “I think this is probably what they mean by taking your work home with you,” Jim adds running a hand over the head of the chair.

“Well when your jobs as fun as mine…” Leo’s drawl is suddenly right behind Jim and it’s lower and deeper than usual and Jim thinks he might be being seduced. When Jim turns to face Leo he’s back inside a trusty t-shirt, but it’s clearly one of the more beloved, never-worn-out-of-the-house, kinds because it’s looser than he’s used to seeing Leo in and the inscription over the front is faded.

“Ole’ Miss Studio?” Jim has to squint to read it but he manages it once he’s tilted his head slightly. “The place in Mississippi,” Jim surmises, looking back up at Leo.

“Right.” Leo nods gently. He’s too close for Jim not to develop the sudden urge to kiss him, so he does. He lets one hand linger around Leo’s forearm while he raises the other hand to cup his jaw.  Leo lets out a surprised laugh and pulls Jim closer, walking him back until Jim is half sitting on, half leaning against, the arm of the chair.

“This isn’t comfortable,” Jim says when they pull apart, his voice slightly shaky.  

“I haven’t had any complaints about the couch.” Leo suggests.

“You had many complaints about the mattress?” Jim counters, quirking his eyebrow.

“Jim,” Leo cautions.

“Bones,” Jim deadpans. They stare at each other and then Jim sighs overdramatically. “You really didn’t invite me up here to fuck me, did you?”

“ _Of course_ I damned well didn’t. Jesus Jim, this isn’t an episode of barely legal,” Leo squawks.

“Seen many of those have you?” Jim grins and Leo shoves at his shoulder. “You’re too much of a gentleman, Bones,” he adds wryly and then he gets a sudden, horrifying thought and concern stains his pretty face. “You’re not going to make me wait until I’m like twenty one to bang me are you because I don’t think I can wait that long. I’m already headed for a sainthood as it is.”

“Shut up.” Leo pouts, seemingly assessing the situation.

“I _am_ eighteen, you know,” Jim reminds. “You’ve seen my ID.”

“Shut up,” Leo repeats, more gently this time, pulling Jim closer for another kiss. Jim wants to stubbornly shrug away but Bones is so good at this kissing lark that Jim thinks it’s only fair he takes advantage of the opportunity. Jim, being Jim, gets a bit cheeky and lets his hands sink lower down Leo’s back, softly tracing the swell of his ass.

“You’re unbelievable,” Leo whispers against Jim’s cheek. But they’re moving again. Jim is being guided backwards down the hallway, Leo nipping at his neck and groping his ass while Jim flounders slightly, heart beating erratically. Jim’s hands are gripping at Leo’s shoulders as he moans and whimpers. The hallway seems longer than it looked but Jim’s sure they’re headed for the bedroom and he’s proven correct when the back of he’s knees come into contact with the bedframe and then buckle. Leo keeps Jim from sprawling all over the bed with a firm hand around his waist. Their fall backwards onto the bed is, in fact, quite languid and graceful, Leo remains braced on his knees keeping Jim’s thighs spread; his calloused hands pull at the buttons on Jim’s shirt, with his mouth still manipulating love bites into Jim’s throat.

Jim can admit, if only to himself, that he is now feeling rather nervy. He’ll make out with almost anything; he’s gone through high school flirting with everything on legs and he’s had his hands and mouth wrapped around enough inappropriate appendages that he’s certain he knows what he’s doing. But this is different. This is him, literally, at the hands of a man who is gruff and manly and exerting his control left, right and centre and Jim is squirming a little on the inside.

“Hey,” Leo says softly, pulling away from Jim and taking in the apprehension written all over his face.

“Don’t stop,” Jim whispers, hooking his fingers under Leo’s t-shirt and tugging it partway up until he can see the first strip of tattooed skin, then Leo’s own hands are there pulling it the rest of the way and Jim is greeted by the sight of Leo’s inked torso and, in places, patches of tanned skin. Leo lets Jim stare at him for a while, lets Jim catalogue his body, cold fingertips tracing patterns over his chest, before edging Jim’s shirt off his shoulders. Leo sees the familiar sight of his wolf, _their_ wolf, and he smiles.

“You sure?” Leo asks, dipping lower to graze a slightly open-mouthed kiss over the wolf’s ear.

“I’m certain.”

“God.” Leo huffs letting his forehead fall on Jim’s shoulder. “I’m about to have sex with a _teen_ ager.”

“Lucky you.” Jim grins, feeling more relaxed as he acclimatises to the feel of Leo’s torso against his. He can feel Leo’s smile against his shoulder and then Leo’s mouth puckers and Jim’s torso is peppered with quick kisses. Leo rearranges himself so that his legs bracket Jim's and he can begin undoing the buttons on his black jeans, Jim helps Leo shimmy them off but then things seem to come to a halt. Jim lifts his gaze from where Leo’s hands are on the waist band on his boxer-briefs to his hazel eyes and he sees the nervousness in them.

“You’re not meant to be nervous.” Jim reminds.

“I know.” Leo huffs. “I’m not.” He adds curtly.

“ _Sure,_ ” Jim says but his smirk quickly turns into a pout when he feels a sharp smack to the side of his thigh. “That hurt.”

“Good.” Leo’s smirking now and the wave of anxiety seems to have abated. Leo’s unbuckling his own belt and pulling off his jeans. He pauses at his own boxers and looks at Jim again who puffs out a laugh and places his hand over Leo’s encouraging him to tug them off. Jim’s seen his fair share of cock; but Leo’s… _well_ , it’s _certainly_ above the pick of the Iowa crop he’s been exposed to. Leo watches Jim’s reaction with a coy little smile on his face, his eyes flick down to his hardened length and then over to Jim’s boxer covered erection and clearly decides they’ve done enough waiting around.

Jim’s never lost his boxers so quickly in his life.

The feel of Leo’s lips along the inner seam of his thigh is enough the make Jim writhe and whimper and Leo’s breath is so hot against his skin when he’s chuckling like that, all filthy and teasing. Jim watches as his pretty much pristine skin meets the vivid colour inked all over Leo’s upper body and feels slightly vulnerable, like Leo has a second skin Jim hasn’t quite formed yet, but it’s also quite arousing.

Leo’s tattooed hands are holding his pale hips in place while he kisses around Jim’s cut lines. He catches sight of Leo’s tattooed nape before he feels Leo’s mouth envelope him. Jim isn’t really sure what happens in those few minutes wherein he’s receiving the best blow job of his life but he’s sure he’s going to come. He’s close and Leo _must_ know it. But he’s an evil creature because he pulls his lips away from Jim’s hard— _so hard—_ cock while murmuring something sweet into the crease of his thigh, licking a line up to his hip with just the thin tip of his talented tongue.

“Turn over.” He breathes and Jim tenses.

“But I—”

“Just for now, I don’t wanna—” Leo breaks off for a few deep, settling, breaths, holding Jim’s hips. “It’ll be easier the first time if you’re on all fours,” Leo says, and Jim knows this, and _knows_ Leo must know he knows this. But Leo seems to be of the belief that this night’s success is solely on his shoulders and the responsibility is clearly making him skittish. Jim offers a cautious little smile and flips himself into the proposed position. He feels exposed, and he doesn’t look back over his shoulder to watch for Leo’s reaction. He feels Leo’s teeth gently bite into one ass cheek while one of Leo’s huge hands firmly cups the other. Then Leo’s lips are working their way up Jim’s spine and over one shoulder, pausing to worry a little love bite into the skin before continuing their journey to Jim’s neck. Leo’s other hand, the one that isn’t kneading Jim’s ass cheek, snakes around his waist and settles around the base of Jim’s cock.

Leo pulls away after a moment of intense attention to Jim’s body and reaches for his bedside table, pulling a condom and a bottle of lube from the back of the shelf. Jim feels brave now and does let his head turn, watching Leo roll on the condom and slick himself up. He does it with precise but leisurely movements, clearly not wishing to rush anything. Jim thinks that in the long run this is probably a plus, even if right now Jim just wants Bones inside him.

The feel of a long finger inside him is slightly uncomfortable, but it’s not as if he’s never had one of his own up there before now. Leo’s are thicker though and Jim, for all his manly bravado and brash exuberance, has decidedly elegant hands. His hand span is broad, for sure, but everything seems to be finished off in a rather slender, if not slightly effeminate, way.  Leo takes his time opening Jim up, working until he’s just slightly too loose before adding the next finger. Soon enough Leo is moving all four fingers inside him and Jim is suddenly terrified that Bones is going to want to fist him. Jim lives in a _never say never_ sort of mind frame and the thought of it does send frissons of anticipation along his nerves but he’s definitely saying not tonight, _definitely_ not tonight.

“Hey,” Leo murmurs, obviously feeling Jim tense around his fingers. “You alright?”

“Uh huh.” Jim nods weakly, head lowering between his shoulders. But then Leo’s cheek is rubbing against one shoulder blade and he feels this surge of warmth run through him. “I think I’m more than ready now, Bones.” He says in a voice that’s more confident than he’s feeling. Leo gives a final flex of his fingers that sends a completely different sensation straight to his cock and he can’t contain his moan. Leo nips playfully at his back and then pulls away to align himself to Jim. Leo uses the pad of his palms to spread Jim’s cheeks, sliding in with one fluid, _perfect_ , motion.

Jim is pretty much a basket of ‘oh’ing and ‘yes’ing where Leo is all deep throaty noises because no matter how much Leo prepped him Jim is still _so tight_ and Leo seems to know exactly where Jim’s prostate is and neither are going to be lasting very long on this particular round thank you very much. Although Jim is so hopeful, and actually quite certain, there is going to be more of this. And now that they’ve gotten over the initial worry and awkwardness they can just do it a lot and often and _fuck_. Jim feels Leo come inside him a few thrusts before he’s clenching and coming himself and Leo, the gentleman that he is, pumps Jim through the aftershocks and then pulls them over onto their sides. Jim realises that they're lying with their heads at the wrong end of the bed but Leo is pulling the pillows down and Jim dutifully lifts his head, settling back into Leo’s warmth.

“I think my knee is in the wet spot,” Leo murmurs.

“We should get under the covers then,” Jim returns, trying to manoeuvre the duvet and get both of their bodies underneath it.

Once they’re safely under the duvet and away from any wet spot Leo throws a hand over Jim’s waist and pulls him round so their facing. Even in the darkness of the bedroom Jim’s grin is visible and Leo tries to maintain the roll of put-out boyfriend before huffing out a laugh only to be silenced by the feel of Jim’s lips against his mouth, tongue warm and insistent. Jim deems this his new favourite way to fall asleep and must say as much aloud because Leo chuckles and kisses his cheek before they both resign themselves to sleep.

Their foreheads are still touching when Jim’s eyes flicker open. Leo’s steady hazel gaze is already watching him with a small smile and pseudo-exasperated eyes. Leo must have gotten up because the curtains are drawn to keep the bright May sun out and there is an empty coffee mug perched on top of the duvet, held in place by the closeness of their bodies.

“What’s the plan for today then?” Jim yawns, scratching his cheek with his thumb and tensing his body in a long cat-like stretch.

“I don’t know about your plans.” Leo huffs and Jim’s heart drops slightly. “But I intend to remain in bed for the remainder of the day. I’d appreciate the company.” He adds.

“You’re an asshole,” Jim murmurs, grazing his front two teeth along the top of Leo’s shoulder. “But you’re lucky because it seems I have no prior engagements.”

“Good.” Leo’s grin is slightly feral. “Because there is a lot that needs to be accomplished today and it wouldn’t have been possible all on my lonesome.”

“Christ I hope you’re talking about more sex. _Please_ let there be more sex.” Jim says with a cheeky smirk and a wandering hand. Leo lets Jim take his cock in hand rather pleased to be getting a lazy morning hand job, but then Jim’s straddling him and looking down with mischievous eyes and filthy intent. Jim is still stroking Leo to _rock_ -hardness but he’s doing it with a suddenly-lubed hand behind his back while the other hand is splayed across Leo’s chest, taking a bit of Jim’s weight as leans forward. Leo is looking up at him wide-eyed and adoring and his hands seem to automatically glue themselves to Jim’s hips, helping him to ease down on Leo’s slick cock and find the angle that makes Jim croon in ecstasy.

It’s faster and less careful this time. Leo is clearly certain that Jim won’t break and is happy to take advantage of that new revelation, especially with all the encouraging sounds the teen is making.

After they’ve scavenged for lunch Leo fucks Jim face to face, like he originally wanted, although Jim has now come to appreciate not getting what you want, and it really was worth the wait. Although the crescent shaped indents and littering of red welt lines crisscrossing Leo’s back is something they’re going to have to work on.

“Take it as a compliment.” Jim grins, not nearly as apologetic as he should be. “They’re like your battle wounds. It’s sexy.”

“We need to get you to a vet, kitten.” Leo huffs, and Jim shrieks indignantly at the snarky little pet name.

“Bitch.” Jim mutters but he lets Leo pull him into his arms anyway.

By the time Leo’s alarm goes off Jim has two fingers inside him and his mouth around Leo’s cock. Leo doesn’t know how he managed to stay asleep through the onslaught, especially not with Jim’s skinny fingers massaging his prostate _like a pro_.

“Oh, holy _Christ_ ,” Leo yelps, his Southern accent becoming thicker with his blooming arousal. His tattooed fingers find their way into the soft strands of Jim’s blonde hair and just the feel of the rise and fall of Jim’s head between his thighs makes his need to come urgent and visceral. Jim enjoys taking that control away from Bones, watching the usually well contained, rather cantankerous, tattoo artist reduced to a gasping mess is making him hard, even though Jim really doesn’t want this to be about him.

“Good morning.” Jim murmurs, lips trailing down the underside of Leo’s cock, mouthing at his balls and using his thumb to rub over his perineum.

“Jim you have to, _oh_ —” Leo’s throat makes a weak, debauched sound as Jim slides a third finger inside him. “You should, _God Jim_ , you should— _fuck me_.” 

“Was that an exclamation or a request?” Jim smirks, lifting his head to watch as Leo writhes and squirms. The alarm is still baring and so Jim uses he free hand to smack it into silence.

“It’s a fucking _order,_ ” Leo gasps.

“Yes, _sir,_ ” Jim counters; biting Leo’s left rose and kissing the prominent line of his collar bone. Replacing his fingers with his now very hard cock and sliding home feels right in a completely different way to the feel of Leo inside him. Leo’s thighs are tightly pressed to Jim’s ribs as he thrusts his hips up to meet Jim. Leo seems more carefree like this, like he can finally just let go.

Even after they’ve come, basked, showered and eaten, the glow still clings to Bones and Jim finally knows what people mean when they say someone looks well shagged.

“You’re going to be late for school,” Leo says absently, looking at the kitchen clock, Jim frowns thinking two days later is a weird time to throw someone out but then Leo is grabbing his coat and handing Jim one of _his_ clean t-shirts. “Put that on and I’ll drive you.”

“You’re borrowing me clothes and driving me to school? Wow I feel treasured,” Jim teases, but he does actually. Being taken care of is quite refreshing and Jim finds he likes it.

—

Gaila squeals at him when he wanders into the studio later that day, when his classes are _finally_ over and he decides being grounded just isn’t how he wants to live his life. Leo’s eating something mixed with brown rice from a carton that he must have got that morning from the deli in the supermarket and Christine is looking at pictures of compasses on the internet, smirking as she does so.

“The Barbie heads are healing really nice, G,” He says, deflecting. “Good job, Christine.”

“The love bites are healing really nice, Jim,” Christine says in return. “Good job, Leo.”

“I’ve had to put up with this all day,” Leo grumbles, getting up from his station to stand beside Gaila. Jim tries to contain his grin but it peeks out from the side of his lips and Leo rolls his eyes. “You’re unbelievable.”

“In bed.” Jim nods. “I know.”

“Yay us.” Gaila claps excitedly, nudging Leo suggestively.

“Why _us_?” Jim wonders.

“Because now we’re all getting laid, it’ll make for a much happier work environment,” Gaila explains.

“Are you saying the work environment here was ever an _unhappy_ one, Gaila?” Leo asks, looking at her pointedly.

“No! Of course not.” She makes a face that undermines her statement at Jim, who laughs, but quickly gets a pointed look of his own from Bones.

“Do I have to pick sides now?” Jim asks.

“It shouldn’t be a difficult choice,” Leo states.

“It’s not, Bonesy, of course it’s not.” Jim smiles at him and frowns at Gaila. “Sorry, G.”

“It’s alright. I’d side with Leo too if he was sucking my dick.” She shrugs. Then the bell above the door tinkles and Jim has to hold back a blush. Leo picks his rice dish off of the front desk and pads back over to his station while Jim hangs back to the side of the desk, pretending to look at some of the artwork he’s already seen countless times before. The guy wants to talk to Leo about a design idea he has and the last hour of the shop’s work day passes with Gaila trying to get Jim to give her _details, Jimmy, I need details_.

Frank does his nut when Jim finally makes it home that night. He gets barraged with questions and reprimands about the ungodly state of his neck and the fact that he turned up at school wearing the same jeans he left the house in Saturday afternoon.

“Least I went in,” Jim counters and Frank clips him round the back of the head with a muttered _less of your back chat._ Jim heads up to his bedroom with a minimal amount of fuss and finishes the homework he didn’t do on Friday and the literature assignment he got today.

Jim manages to graduate at the end of May with the rest of his class, his averages were shaky but with Frank breathing down his neck to pull his act together and the school’s guidance counsellor repeating his SAT score to him over and over he ends up with the 4.0 GPA he should have always been getting. The school are disappointed he hasn’t applied to college but he shrugs and tells them maybe he’ll do it next year. It’s June, the summer has started and he merrily says his farewell to Riverside High. He takes more shifts at the ship yard and the foreman suggests Jim look into astrophysics or aircraft engineering or whatever the courses are call nowadays because he’s too smart to be wasting his life fixing up the junk that fills this yard for the shitty wage he’s earning. Leo starts dropping hints too, he’ll be deep throating Jim and then pull away at the last second to talk about _college_ and Jim will be so disorientated the only thing he can do is whine and whimper.

“You have to start doing stuff in like October; you should look around at places you like. I’m taking two weeks off at the end of July; a friend of mine, Scotty, is coming up to look after the shop so Christine isn’t on her own. We could drive places. I hear Stanford is good for sciences.” Leo shrugs.

“This isn’t fair. I can’t leave if you’re tattooing me.” It’s Jim’s last session for his chest piece and Leo’s using it as a means to corner him, figuratively speaking of course, tattooing someone in the corner of the room seems highly unhygienic. _Pathogens_ Jim thinks with Leo’s voice in his head.

“It’s the only way to make you listen.” Leo huffs.

“Why do you care?” Jim demands, making sure he stays perfectly still.

“Because I care about _you_.” Leo huffs. “You can’t work at that shipyard for the rest of your life. You’re too smart and too creative and you’ll end up going insane. Your mental health is important to me. I don’t want to be fucking you if you’re insane. It’s bad enough that you’re a teenager.”

“You’re so funny.” Jim scowls. “What am I even meant to major in?”

“Whatever the hell you want to major in,” Leo counters. “That’s the best thing ain’t it, there aren’t teachers telling you what to do, it’s your life Jim and you live it however you damn well please.”

“I don’t know what I want to do,” Jim admits. “I don’t feel like I have a destined occupation. I’m sure I could happily fix up cars for the rest of my life, I’m good at it, its easy work.”

“Easy yeah, exciting, though? Does it challenge you? What makes your blood pump, what makes you excited?” Leo prompts. “Don’t ever just settle Jim. This world is yours for the taking.”

“I don’t know.” Jim shrugs, but only half-heartedly because he can’t really move his chest.

“Well then just apply to a few places, you don’t have to choose your major yet and you don’t even have to accept the places but if you don’t apply you can’t get a place and that seems like a no-win scenario and I know your stance on those,” Leo jibes.

“If I agree to look up some colleges will you drop it?” Jim asks, wincing at a particularly brutal patch of colouring happening under his collar bone that feels like it’s searing through his throat.

“For now. You want a break? I can get you a pain killer?” Leo asks.

“How long left?” 

“An hour, maybe a bit more.” 

“Then no, I’ll be alright,” Jim says and they fall into a loaded silence, both pointedly refusing to be the first to break it. Jim thinks this is probably their first real tiff and he’s _so_ not enjoying it.

Leo is persistent though and on his two weeks off they end up visiting _fourteen_ colleges. Jim was sick of walking around those lofty old buildings but it had been nice to travel with Leo, staying in motels and eating diner breakfasts and listening to old songs on the radio. He’d also narrowed down his possible application choices and decided what it was _he_ wanted from a university. Frank just chuckled slightly every morning Jim left to visit another college making it clear that while he’d be glad to see the back of his prodigal step-son Frank didn’t really think he had a chance.

Just showed how much Frank knew.

—

Winona arrives home just as July becomes August and immediately rocks the faux-harmonious life Frank and Jim pretend to live. Jim didn’t even know she was in the _country_ until she opens the door to his bedroom and stares in semi-awe, semi-horror at his chest, still slightly flaky in places.

“What in God’s name have you done to yourself?” She asks, voice ragged as if she might cry.

“You don’t like it?” Jim counters, looking down at his bare torso, he’s only wearing pyjama pants because it’s half eleven at night and there’s a stagnant heat in the air.

“ _Like it_ —” She trails off with a frown. “James, you’re eighteen years old and you’ve—”

“Got a few tattoos.” Jim nods. “ _Eighteen_ , Mom,” he repeats. “I’m allowed to do that.”

“But it’s so expansive. And it’s permanent and who would tattoo _so much_ onto a _child_? Was the place even legal, was it sterile? Did you see a license or certificates? What if you’ve contracted HIV, what if you’re allergic to the ink?” Winona’s eyes show her unwarranted concern but Jim just rolls his.

“You’ll love Bones,” Jim says, more to himself than to her but she steps inside he room and peers down at him.

“Who’s _Bones_?” She questions, no particular intonation in her voice that Jim can decipher. Then he realises he’s never really told her he’s into guys, she hasn’t been around all that much since he’s been old enough to make up his mind about his sexuality and it’s never really come up when she _has_ been home.

“Leo, his actual name is Leo,” Jim explains first, before adding. “He’s my boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend,” Winona repeats slowly. “I uh, you never said you were—”

“It never really came up.” 

“What about that lovely blonde girl you were dating, Carol something or other?”

“Marcus,” Jim supplies. “That was three years ago, Mom, and uh, I’m not really fussy.”

“How long have you been seeing this _Leo_?” she asks.

“Since Aprilish."

“Did he go to Riverside?” She asks.

“Ah no, he’s ah—he’s working."

“As…?”

“A tattoo artist,” Jim says, using his quiet, diplomatic, _indoor_ voice.

“I see.” Winona purses her lips. “Has Frank met him?” To which Jim just laughs and Winona rolls her eyes at him. “You should invite him round for dinner on Sunday.”

“No, Mom, let’s not do this big happy family thing it’s—”

“On Sunday.” She repeats firmly, then something catches her eye on the cabinet next to his bed and she picks up his notepad. Jim watches her read the list once before she repeats it aloud.

“Chicago, Stanford, Berkley, Colorado, Iowa, Michigan, Princeton, Caltech question mark.” She looks at Jim. “These are a list of colleges.”

“I know,” Jim says. “I’m working shifts at the Shipyard, four hundred dollars a week, so I figure I’ll save up. I’ve been giving Frank fifty dollars of it for rent. But at least they’ll be some money there, then I’ll apply in the fall. Should hear back by April.”

“That’s great, James,” she says with a genuine smile painted across her worn features. “These are some difficult colleges to go for, though," she adds cautiously.

“Mom, my GPA was 4.0 and my SAT score was twenty two eighty. I might not be MIT material but I think I’ll manage with at least one of these, the careers advisor at Riverside said you’re meant to overreach on two of your choices anyway.”

“I know, honey,” she says quickly. “It’s just—” But then she must change her mind because she offers Jim another warm smile. “I’m proud of you.”

—

Jim maintains their established routine of picking Leo up from work Saturday, going out to eat and then staying that night. He hasn’t told Leo his mother is back on the scene and that they’re both expected to turn up to a family dinner tomorrow afternoon. Jim thinks telling Leo while he’s letting the man fuck him to high heaven will soften the blow, it doesn’t. Leo stops mid-thrust.

“ _What?_ ” 

“She wants to meet you I guess.” Jim shrugs. “I think you should—”

“Dinner, with your mother. And _Frank_?” Leo repeats. “Are you out of your damn _mind_?”

“You need to continue with the forward momentum of your hips,” Jim says gently. He's so close. 

“No,” Leo says, pulling out all the way.

“ _Bones,_ ” Jim whines.

“We need to talk about this,” Leo says, throwing himself down at Jim’s side. “What if she hates me? Does Frank even know you’re dating a guy? Has she seen your tattoos? God, she’s going to _hate_ me. I’ve _defiled_ her baby boy.”

“If you go all Southern gentlemen on her she’ll fall under your charms no problem.” Jim grins.

“Christ.” Bones huffs.

“Can we please continue now?” Jim suggests.

“I do deserve it.” Leo nods, rolling back on top of Jim. But then he stills again. “Does she know you’re here? Oh God. She’s going to _know_. When we walk in that house tomorrow she will _know_.”

“Orgasm, Bones, please focus on getting to the orgasm,” Jim reminds.

—

Jim dons a simple t-shirt over his jeans, he has a choice of a few because he’s made sure to continuously bring clothes with him over the last few weeks so that he can slowly infest Leo’s house with his own shit. In the end Leo just cleared out a section of his wardrobe and a draw (or two) and organised Jim’s clothes neatly and in an orderly fashion, grumbling all the while. But Leo didn’t know what to wear. He didn’t know if he should attempt to cover as many tattoos as he could, even though his hands and neck would be on show regardless of what he wore. In the end Jim convinced him that a shirt would be too much, that this was just a homely dinner. So Leo put on a white long sleeve and a pair of dark jeans, the kind you can wear on a smart-casual occasion and not feel like a complete ruffian.

“You look great.” Jim grins at him while they wait for Winona to open the door.

“James.” She smiles when she opens the door and then looks at Leo. “You must be Leo.”

“Ms. Kirk.” Leo nods.

“Please, call me Winona,” she corrects gently.

Frank is thankfully sober. And dinner goes surprisingly well. Winona and Jim talk about college and Jim tells his mother about their travels around the country to see various places. That draws Winona’s attention back to Leo and she purses her lips at him, Jim knows that to be her question forming face. She’s contemplating tactics and that scares Jim.

“How long have you been a tattoo artist, Leo?” She begins.

“Almost eight years.” 

“That would make you how old?” 

“Twenty four," Leo says, sounding guilty.

“ _Mom_ —” 

“That’s a six year difference,” Winona points out.

“Yes.” Leo nods.

“And what’ll happen if he goes to college?” Winona wonders.

“When,” Leo corrects automatically and then looks slightly abashed at his admission.

“When,” Winona agrees.

“He’ll go to college and we’ll figure it out as we go,” Leo proposes and Jim grins.

“He’s like the Wendy to my Peter.” Jim smirks.

“Just because I was brought up in a good Southern home doesn’t mean I won’t hurt you once we’ve left the dinner table,” Leo mutters trying to cover his mortified blush behind a sugar sweet smile.

“No, Bones, you’re going at it all wrong. Wendy doesn’t threaten Peter.” Jim grins and Winona lets a little laugh escape her throat. Frank gets up with a sigh and clears the table.

“Why the nickname?” Winona wonders, looking between Jim and Leo.

“I really don’t know. You have a lovely son, Winona, but he’s two dimes short of a dollar.” Leo offers her a crooked smile and she continues to chuckle, years lifting from her face.

“It’s a couple of things really. The stuff in the studio, your sleeve,” Jim explains. “The fact you might have been a sawbones, it’s old school, you know.” He shrugs.

“Your mind is a funny little place.” Leo scoffs.

“You’re _sleeve_?” Winona prompts.

“Uh, yeah.” Leo nods. “I have two full sleeves. Tattoos up both arms,” he clarifies.

“And one is of bones?” she questions, brows knitting together confusedly. Leo nods slightly and pushes the appropriate t-shirt sleeve up, brandishing his forearm to Winona’s scrutiny. She takes it all in like the art work it is, thumb subconsciously coming to rub over the lines that mark the end of the radius bone and pulling over some of the black and grey muscle design. “It’s so detailed.”

“Yeah.” Leo nods, clearly not sure what else to say.

“Do you tattoo yourself, is that what people do?” Winona wonders.

“When people get started they do sometimes. But the artist I did my apprenticeship under told me not to, said I’d only end up with two thighs full of half-assed tattoos that I’d hate.” Leo explains. “And I say thighs because it’s the easiest place to tattoo on yourself, I did some filigree on my other wrist but had it covered.”

“But you did Jim’s tattoos,” she says.

“Yes I did.”

“And you’d do more if he asked you?” She questions.

“Probably, ma’am, yes I would. As long as it wasn’t something ridiculous.” Leo admits.

“I see,” she says, clearly unamused. “Are you staying home tonight, James?”

“I, um, I can if you’d like me to.” Jim says.

“I think we need to talk.” 

Thankfully Winona waits for Leo to leave before she passes her judgement, she likes him, she does. He is funny and clearly adores Jim without pandering to any of her son’s shit. Jim needs someone who will challenge him and Leo seems to provide that. He’s intelligent and charming but the man is an adult with a wealth of experience that Jim just doesn’t have as an eighteen year old college prospective. And the tattoos are going to be an issue for her.

“I just don’t understand how you can find it attractive. It’s wonderful as art, if it could just wash off.” She says. “It was so detailed it was almost grotesque.”

“It’s not _grotesque_.” Jim huffs. “It’s really hot.”

“James.”

“What?” Jim counters. “You don’t hear me calling Frank grotesque.”

“I’m your mother I want what’s best for you,” Winona insists. “It’s okay for him he works in that scene but what about when you’re looking for work?”

“In what, four years’ time? Six, _ten_ if I decide to do graduate studies?” Jim wonders. “I’m not going to live my life on hold on the off chance an elitist in a suit won’t hire me because of what I’ve decided to do with my own body. I might get hit by a bus tomorrow.”

“You need to be practical.” 

“And you need to be realistic,” Jim counters. “I’m not the perfect prim son you and George so hoped I’d be. I’m not going to be an officer in the military or a human rights lawyer, or whatever it is you had planned. I’m not going to live in a little suburban home in Iowa with a pretty blonde wife, a white picket fence and two point five children. I’m just going to gamble my way through things and see where I end up.”

They stare at each other, Jim breathing through his nose until he's calmed down. Winona purses her lips and turns to stack the dishes. “What’s with the peaches, anyway?” She wonders, voice slightly more conversational now, she must have caught sight of them when Leo scrunched up the forearm of the other sleeve – it _was_ particularly warm in the house today, Jim couldn’t blame him.  

“He’s from Georgia; it’s sort of a joke. I like the colour of them, and the leafiness.” Jim grins. “It’s really cool mom, it’s like a preference, you know.”

“You can say turn-on, James. I won’t have a heart attack.” Winona smiles.

“Are you sure?” Jim smirks and Winona just shakes her head.

“I’m leaving on Tuesday, going back to Lebanon to help monitor the some of the NGOs stationed over there.” Winona says. “I just want to know that you’re going to be okay, that you have your head on your shoulders and not up in the clouds.”

“I like the clouds.” 

—

October comes around quicker than he thought it would, and by the time it does he’s practically living with Leo, no longer giving Frank a penny but instead buying their groceries when he gets in from work on Thursdays. Jim is surprised by how much he likes the routine, the domesticity. He sends off his applications, along with recommendation letters from his more enthusiastic high school teachers and various application essays all individual to the colleges themselves. Leo likes Chicago’s _how do you feel about Wednesday_ essay but Jim prefers the way he wrote his answer for Stanford’s _please write a letter to your future roommate_ because it’s almost painfully honest but hilarious and yet very very sophisticated.

“I like it too. But it just reminds me that you won’t be here.” Leo says gently over Thursday’s _unhealthy_ , from-a-box, pizza dinner.

“I might end up staying in Iowa.” Jim shrugs.

“ _Don’t_ settle.” Leo warns. “If you get into Stanford or _Princeton_ , you’re going there.”

“I’ll go wherever I damn well please,” Jim says with a grin. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”

“Sure, Jim.” Leo nods. “I just can’t wait.”

And as if they’ve jinxed themselves the days slip away, it’s not October anymore, or November and then Christmas is gone and Jim spends the time moping his boyfriends four day stint in Georgia, then its January or maybe it’s February and Jim is healing an outer biceps piece of an old school ship and a pretty pin-up on the opposite forearm, she’s a blonde but she reminds him of Gaila with her soft curves and bright green eyes. Her hair has a curl to it and she’s wearing a pretty pale blue negligée. Leo admits he enjoys getting to go back to his roots with Jim’s body and he’s glad he’s finally getting some use out of that chair. Then Jim is _nine_ teen. And then there are letters addressed to Jim that Frank forwards onto Leo’s apartment and so it must be April.

“You should open them.” Leo says over breakfast one morning. “You’ll need to reply as soon as possible.”

“I’m nervous. They might all be declines.” Jim huffs.

“You’ll never know if you don’t open them.” Leo counters, handing him the small bundle of envelopes.

Jim opens the first, it has the Iowa State logo on the back of the envelope and he feels like this is the safest option. It’s an acceptance letter and Jim feels like he can breathe. Then it’s a polite decline from Princeton but it doesn’t sting as much as it should. He didn’t really want to go that far East. He didn’t really want to go for an Ivy League. Leo rubs a soothing circle into his wrist and he hands him another envelop. Colorado has accepted him, and so has Chicago. Jim’s holding back his grin. Berkley and Stanford have offered him a place as well. He wonders if he should have applied to Caltech or Michigan – but that would have just been greedy and he wouldn’t have accepted anyway.

“You’re too damn smart for your own good.” Leo grins. “I’m really proud of you, kid. You should call your mother.”

“She’s in Syria; what with everything going on there she probably won’t have a phone handy.” Jim says.

“You should try anyway, leave her a message and she’ll call you back as soon as she can.” Leo says. “Are you feeling particularly drawn to any one in particular?” Leo asks, motioning the letters spread out on the table.

“I don’t know.” Jim shrugs. “I like Chicago a lot. But it might be cool to live in California. Colorado had great facilities, I guess, it’s a strange place though.”

“If you could only keep one of the Californian colleges which would it be?” Leo asks.

“Stanford, for sure.” Jim says.

“Would you want Colorado over Stanford?” Leo wonders, and Jim knows where this is going.

“No.” Jim says.

“And Chicago?”

“I don’t know.” Jim says honestly. “I really liked Chicago.”

“Okay. That’s okay. It’s a lot to take in, all these people wanting a piece of you.” And Leo grins. “But we’ve narrowed it down a bit.”

“You never asked about Iowa,” Jim says pointedly.

“You’re not staying in Iowa,” Leo says. “I know you feel like you needed to apply there but you really can’t even consider it when you have places at Stanford and Chicago.”

“Are you being a name Nazi?” Jim wonders.

“Jim,” Bones warns. “We need to get to work. I’ll drive you or else you’ll be late. We’ll go for a celebratory drink tonight with the girls.”

“Gaila was gonna take me to a strip club if I got into Princeton.” Jim pouts. “She wanted me to be her Ivy League twink.”

“I think if you’re _anyone’s_ Ivy League twink you’re mine.” 

“I love it when you get all possessive.” Jim purrs, trying to hide his smirk.

Jim’s never really had to make a big decision. Not like this anyway. This is his _future_. His mother likes the thought of having her son major in physics at Stanford but Gaila doesn’t want him to go that far. It’s a four hour drive to Chicago or a twenty eight hour drive to Stanford. That is definitely a point in Chicago’s favour. Leo stays quiet on the subject. Christine tells Jim, only once she’s had a few tequila shots, that she’s sure Leo does have an opinion he just doesn’t want to influence Jim in anyway. But Jim wants to be influenced. He has to make a choice before May comes along and that means he has like two weeks. He’d love to get it over and done with today but he’s drunk now because Gaila has been sneaking him little blue shots that taste like pure sugar but make his throat burn.

“Are you getting my boyfriend drunk?” Leo slurs at Gaila, laying a warm hand on Jim’s thigh—and quite high up his thigh too.

“I’m a lesbian, Leo.” Gaila giggles. “Jim is safe from me.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” Leo states with that honey sweet Georgian accent and Jim wants to kiss him. But the bar isn’t so busy that people wouldn’t notice them so he holds back the urge, laying his hand over Leo’s instead and guiding it higher up his leg, thankful for the slight concealment offered by the table. Leo leans into Jim’s throat and asks ever so politely _if you’ll let me rim you in the gent’s, darlin’, because you’re just so damn pretty and so damn smart and I know I’m a weak-willed man but I just can’t keep my hands off you_.

“ _Fuck_.” Jim murmurs and they try to head to the bathroom in the most inconspicuous way possible. 

—

It would cost less for Jim to go to Stanford because there is better financial aid, although Chicago has a scholarship for families earning under $90,000 which the Kirk family most certainly is. Jim’s lack in extracurricular activities and his rocky school record means other scholarships were really out of the question for him and so he’s probably going to vie for any grants he can and supplement whatever else he needs with loans and his savings.

“Chicago is more dangerous,” Leo says.

“But Stanford seems slightly insular,” Jim counters.

“Stanford would have great weather.” 

“I think I’d miss the seasons.”

“Jesus, Jim if you don’t choose one I’ll pull a fucking name out of a hat.” Leo huffs.

“Might be helpful.” Jim shrugs.

“What if I withhold sexual contact until you’ve made a decision?” Leo threatens.

“You wouldn’t.” Jim scoffs but then Leo is shuffling out of their bed, taking his pillow with him and Jim frowns. “Where are you going?”

“Sleeping on the sofa,” Leo says simply.

“ _Chicago_!” Jim shouts before Leo is even out of the door. “Chicago. God, get back in the bed.”

“You can’t just say Chicago to get me to sleep with you. How do I know you’re not just saying that? You can’t be so depraved that you’d pick a college just so you didn’t have to go without.” Leo scoffs but Jim is biting his lip and he shakes his head.

“No, I think I want to go to Chicago. The academics are amazing, the city was awesome, it’s closer to Iowa and it’s different but more familiar at the same time. I would just be going to Stanford for the name, and that’s not me,” Jim sighs. “Are you ever gonna tell me where you want me to go?”

“No,” Leo says but he’s smiling and Jim thinks he can probably guess. “We should take a vacation up there, if you’re sure about Chicago. I haven’t had time off since the last time we went travelling.”

“And that was hardly a vacation,” Jim mutters.

—

Scotty’s a funny guy; he’s from the United Kingdom, Scotland or something. He’s a few years older than Leo but acts like he’s still eighteen, apart from the amount he drinks. He inks a pair of nautical stars to the side of Jim’s hip bones, the one on the left is navy contrasted with light blue and the one on the right is a dark red against a raspberry red. It’s strange to see someone else wielding a gun at him, they only take an hour or so each and Leo is puttering around the studio, glancing over at Jim every so often.

“Watch those hips, Scotty,” Christine calls. “They’re very important to Leo.”

“I’ve missed you, Chrissie,” Scotty calls back but Jim is wincing too much to laugh. He would though, he’s sure he would.

“Scotty would you touch up the line work for my crest when we get back?” Leo asks.

“Sure thing.” 

“Does this mean I’m _finally_ gonna get to see you inked?” Jim perks up, opening one eye to watch Leo.

“You weren’t there when Christine did my second coy?” Leo inquired.

“No, because you were bitching at me to stay away while you were being tortured.” Jim does laugh then and Scotty draws the gun away so he can laugh as well.

“You guys have been dating for a year.” Gaila says. “Oh my God. A _year._ ”

“I guess we have,” Jim says nonchalantly but he smiles at Leo and it’s full of love and affection, even if they haven’t said _that_ yet.

—

The week in Chicago is a roaring success and Jim gets to see Leo in the chair quicker than he expects when they _stumble_ upon a studio that Leo has always wanted to frequent because the owner is an amazing frame artist so he and Leo fangirl about a framed brown bear with a dream catcher.

“You’re a mystery to me, Bones.” Jim says one night once they’re back in their own bed, Jim’s just washed his hands and is creaming the back of Bones’ upper thigh, lovingly tracing over the bear’s nose and down its belly until it meets the frame, then Jim’s fingers trace the perimeter of the frame and Leo’s tattoo is suitably creamed. For all Leo claims to be terrible with tattoos he was surprisingly unfazed while getting his thigh done but his ribs were another story, the touch up to his crest should have taken thirty minutes but Leo took an hours break ten minutes in and ate a tub of ice cream in order to get through the last twenty minutes.

“I’m gonna miss this.” Leo says.

“Me too.”

Jim’s college orientation starts on the twenty second of September and the welcome letter he receives at the end of July invites him to move into his dorm any time after the sixteenth. Jim wants to leave it as long as possible but Leo says it’d be better for him to go early and meet as many people as possible. So Jim says goodbye to his mother who has made it back from the Middle East for the weekend to wish her son luck and give him the details of a bank account she opened for him and Leo drives him up to Chicago on the seventeenth with a hangover and a trunk full of odds and sods.

“Will you stay tonight?” Jim wonders.

But Leo doesn’t get a choice to stay because Jim’s new roommate is already set up in their dorm. He’s a quiet guy that greets both men pleasantly before informing them that this dorm is only a two person room and if there is an error on the dormitory assignments they should see the dormitory advisory department. Bones explains he’s just the chauffeur to which Jim’s roommate, or _Spock_ , as he’s introduced himself, inquires whether his family hire much other staff and Bones can’t believe this guy but Jim is laughing and explaining that Leo has a dry sense of humour and that they’re dating.

“How long have you been engaging in romantic liaisons?”

“Nearly a year and a half.” Jim grins. “Are you seeing anyone?”

“My companion is a linguist major at UCLA; I was the teaching assistant of her science elective, an electronic communications module.” Spock explains. “I thought it would be more appropriate to continue my graduate education elsewhere.”

“So here we are.” Jim concludes.

“Indeed.”

—

_Received on: November 24 th  
Sender: Jim Kirk (jkirk@chicagou.ac.com)_

_Bones,_

_Are you still picking me up on your way to Georgia? I’d hate to think you’d chicken out but I know you’re worried about how your mom will ‘_ receive’ _us. I know I said things are going well but I’m so ready for a break I’m actually looking forward to a twelve hour drive down south. I’ve made a mixed CD, I know how much you love my expansive music tastes. My mom asks after you in her emails so I figure she must be coming round to the idea of you as a permanent fixture._

 _I miss you so much. Spock calls my ‘pining’_ fascinating _. His girlfriend, no-first-name Uhura—who’s a sophomore and Spock’s doing the fourth year of his PhD which means they have a six year age gap too—came up for the weekend, neither of their families celebrate thanksgiving apparently so she’s going to spend the week here because her classes are finished, she’s got a ‘reading week’. She thinks I’m a flirt but I told her about you. She says you must be a saint, I told her she’d think differently if she had bedded you. She didn’t appreciate my humour. I miss bedding you. God, I miss_ you _._

_I better end this before it turns x-rated—I think they censor the email system—I’ll see you Wednesday._

_Jim._

—

Bones’ mother is adorable, and she absolutely loves Jim. Their Thanksgiving dinner is a very intimate affair, just the three of them but Jim enjoys the easy conversation without the pressure or the loaded questions, just titbits of gossip about the neighbours and Bones talking about maybe getting a puppy now that Jim is gone because the house is quiet without him. Jim is of the firm belief they should pick one out together when Jim finishes for winter break.

They get a lemon border collie that they call Rae. She’s blonde like Jim and like the sun and she’s just as excitable as the nineteen year old.

“I love you, Jim.” Leo says, Jim snuggled into him on the sofa on Christmas Eve, the pup curled over their feet with Home Alone on the television and a bowl of pretzels balanced precariously on the side of the couch.

“I love you too.” Jim says easily, only looking round at Leo so that he can kiss him, reassuring the older man of the statements authenticity. Rae barks at Jim because Leo lets a surprised little yelp escape his throat and she must think somethings going down. Jim laughs because the only thing that’s going down is Leo’s pyjama pants and he’s not sure if they’re meant to shoo the pup away if he wants to fellate his boyfriend on the living room couch.

—

_Received on: June 5 th  
Sender: Jim Kirk (jkirk@chicagou.ac.com)_

_Bones,_

_This quarter ends on the 14 th and Hikaru said he’d drop me back to Iowa on his way home to San Francisco, Pavel’s coming with us because his family live in Washington, Pavel’s the Russian kid, the programmer, he’s only seventeen but he’s a complete genius on another level or genuiusness. Spock is spending spring break in Beirut with his father but Nyota said she might come for a day visit. She wants to meet you. You’re like your very own legend here. I think some of the student body thing you actually attend Chicago. _

_Don’t let it get to your ego._

_I have a surprise for you too._

_See you on the 14 th, Jim. _

—

Hikaru and Pavel spend the night on the futon, they arrived at half eight and it seemed rude to send them on their way without a meal and a conversation and a couple of hours rest. Leo makes it clear they can stay as long as they like, Spring break according to the Chicago Academic calendar is only ten days and it’s nice to have people around the house again. He warns them not to touch his guns though and to keep their sticky paws off his glass table. Rae absolutely loves Pavel but Hikaru is slightly wary of her so Leo confines her to the sitting room when they eat Chinese takeout in the kitchen.

“I though Jim had a lot of tattoos.” Hikaru says, grinning with enthusiasm at Leo’s arms. “I don’t think I could do it myself but they are pretty awesome.”

“Thanks.” Leo scoffs. “You’re in Jim’s physics class right?”

“Yeah I’m hoping to go into aeronautics, maybe be a pilot, I’ve done some flight time as an amateur before, it was awesome.” Hikaru nods.

“And you fence?” Leo wonders.

“Uh huh.” Jim interupts. “It’s intense.”

“I see you got yourself fresh ink?” Leo says, taking Jim by the biceps and twisting his arm slightly to get a better look at the inside. It’s a silhouetted cameo; it's a relatively simple black frame design but the filled shape looks suspiciously like the Disney drawing of Wendy Darling and the cursive script underneath reads _lostboys._ “I like it,” Leo says with a small, chuffed smile.

“I thought you might.” Jim grins. “It hurt like a mother fucker.”

“I thought he was going to cry.” Hikaru smirks.

—

Under the guidance of his academic advisor Jim is majoring in astronomy and minoring in physics while trying to wangle his way onto the joint BA-MA Astrophysics course. Leo is a little bit in love with Christopher Pike and he says as much in his emails, he’s pushing Jim, and yes it means Jim might be there for two years more than expected but it means he’s going to be a fucking astrophysicist and how awesome is that? By Jim’s junior year he and Leo actually see each other more often because Leo has hired Scotty full time because he’s finally moved to Cedar Rapids, Iowa. Leo decides the only days he wants to work are Thursdays, Fridays and Saturdays and so he’s able to spend more time in Chicago than he has ever been able to before. By no means are they seeing each other as regularly as they’d like but a long weekend once or twice a month is certainly better than the few days they had been able to snag when Jim was a freshman. Jim’s junior year actually becomes his BA-MA freshman year and Jim is frustrated with being at the bottom of the pile once again.

Spock assures him this is illogical.

Nyota tuts at his wounded ego.

Hikaru and Pavel just laugh.

Leo lets Jim fuck him boneless.

But they had barely made it into Jim’s dorm before Jim was ripping off Leo’s jeans and sliding inside that tight white heat - he hadn't even taken the time to get their t-shirts off. But Jim knows that Leo is favouring this left side and is slightly worried he’s been too rough in all his eagerness. Leo goes all bashful when Jim calls him on it and says it’s nothing, but Jim’s senses are tingling and he _has_ to get Bones’ shirt off.

What he’s met with when he looks over Leo’s ribs makes his heart stop. He doesn’t recognise it at first, he’s not that down with the various coat of arms designs, but he vaguely remembers this one, somewhere from his past. It’s in the same style as the McCoy crest but where that one is black and white stripped, filled with rows of ravens the Kirk crest is red and yellow and there is a sword crossed with a sceptre and a wreath at the top of it. Leo looks wary; as if after nearly five years he might have just overstepped his bounds. Jim knows about the Jocelyn fiasco, how he had to get her name covered with bone and tendons from the inside of his biceps, he told Jim he had learned his lesson. That he wouldn’t just give his body away like that again. But he has, hasn’t he? And so this must _mean_ something.

"The real crest is brighter but I though it looked a bit garish so I toned it down slightly," Leo explains. 

“Did Scotty do it?” he wonders.

“No, I asked Christine,” Leo replies. “Seemed more sentimental.”

“It’s fresh,” Jim says, placing a kiss to the side of it. “You should have told me, I might have hurt it.”

“You didn’t,” Leo assures.

And Jim realises what it means. He thinks back to all those years ago when Jim was lain out before him, getting a wolf inked into his skin. Leo’s telling Jim he’s found the other coat of arms, the one that’s become important. And he wants Jim to know it. They might be Peter and Wendy now but they were both lost boys once who just so happened to stumble across each other and try so very hard find their way together.

“I love you,” Jim says and Leo nods with a lazy little smile before saying  _I know_ —and what he means is _me too_ , _and yes, and forever_ and it seems as if all at once Jim realises he’s made it. Even if he still has five assignments to write and a dorm room to clean and three societies to govern, he has _Bones_ , more permanent than even the ink on his skin and that’s perfect. So utterly perfect.

“Stop thinking,” Leo hushes gently. “You’ll injure yourself.”

“You’re funny, you know. Anyone ever tell you that?” Jim scoffs and the quiet moment is broken but their future together is no less sealed even though they’re still bitching at each other an hour later when Spock comes through the door. He clearly doesn’t understand how Leo can hold Jim in his arms and yet still be calling him a _fool-headed infant_ but that’s them, isn’t it.

And just like Spock always says, it is  _fascinating._ _  
_


End file.
